


Constant Craving: An Underused Trope Anthology

by elwon



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Gotham City Garage (Comics)
Genre: 80's Musician AU, Actor AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artemis is a music snob, Banter, Biting, Cabin Fic, Daddy Kink, Dick wearing lingerie, Domesticity, Fisting, Flirting, Gotham City Garage as an in-universe tv show, Identity Porn, Jason writes fanfic, Kissing, Knotting, M/M, Magical Girl Fic, Make Up, Mating Rituals, Mr Censor Bar, Oral Sex, Outlaws are Not!Judas Priest, Power Imbalance, Rimming, Rotary Phones & MTV, Semi-Public Sex, Sentinel AU, Titans! are Not!Wham!, Vampires, Werewolves, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Jason writes HoodWing fanfic to cope with his feelings for Dick. Through various different tropes he plays out all the ways he could get together with Dick if their lives were different and Dick returned his feelings; supported by loyal reviewers, things could change for the better.Chapter 1: Magical GirlChapter 2: Roommate AUChapter 3: Actor & Sentinel AU/Gotham City GarageChapter 4: WingficChapter 5: Cabin/Blanket FicChapter 6: Werewolves & VampiresChapter 7: 80's Musicians AUChapter 8: Coffee Shop AU
Relationships: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson
Comments: 244
Kudos: 424





	1. Magical Girl Fic

Jason winces as he slowly lowers himself into his desk chair, putting one hand over his bruised ribs; the soft material of his t-shirt feels coarse and rough against his tender skin. It’d been a rough night, with a few too many near misses for comfort. Right now all he wants is to relax, to unwind for an hour or two before he attempts sleeping. It used to be that reading a book did that for Jason, as evidenced by the full to bursting bookshelves lining the walls of his apartment. But a few months ago he’d accidentally crashed into a writing workshop. (Literally, actually... He’d been thrown through the window of the community centre by Killer Croc. Left reeling on the floor, he’d got his focus back by reading one of the notebooks by his head. He’d thrown a quick compliment out to the author only to have the group host tell him he ‘should try writing sometime instead of violence!’ A week later he had, but not because he was trying not to be _violent_ ).

When a random link to an online hosting archive for fiction had landed in his inbox, no doubt courtesy of Barbara’s elite hacking skills; Jason had shrugged, clicked onto the website and fallen headfirst into a world of fan written works. He’d realised there was a platform for his own fiction, and months later he had a decent body of short stories under his account, with a much higher than he was expecting number of people subscribing and commenting on them. Checking his inbox for comments and kudos is now his favourite time waster, after actual writing. 

And he does write. Often. If any of his readers had any idea that the Red Hood himself was writing fan fiction about the local Gotham superheroes, well, Jason doubts anyone would believe it. Sometimes he writes about his encounters with Nightwing, changing the details and the outcome just enough that it’s not a straight up report. 

And it _is_ always about Nightwing. 

Unsurprisingly, the blue striped boy wonder has a lot of fans. Surprisingly, there are a lot of fans who like reading about Nightwing and the Red Hood together. Together, and also _together_. There’s a lot of smut. A lot of smut. Filth that makes Jason blush and click away, only to come back later when he’s calmed down. Jason’s not written any himself, at least not yet. But if there’s any way for Jason to work through his unwanted and unrequited feelings for Dick without anyone knowing, then fiction is as good as any.

Jason clicks on the comments to his latest, seeing a few familiar usernames, and a few completely new ones. There’s the usual enthusiasm, a few requests for clarifications on certain points and one plea for a continuation that Jason ignores because oneshots are oneshots. The very first comment however, belongs to his favourite reviewer of all. Jason clicks on respond and begins his reply.

~*~

**Ribbons; Like A Present to Be Unwrapped  
by theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: When one night on the rooftops, Red Hood discovers a secret that Nightwing keeps from everyone, he can’t believe it. It’s mind blowing and ridiculous, but somehow it makes all the sense in the world. Hood would never have guessed that this secret is what will draw them closer together. 

Hood’s about to end patrol, and turn in for the night when he spots Nightwing a couple of rooftops over. Running into Nightwing is becoming a regular occurrence, something that happens at least once a week, even though they don’t always speak to each other.

But there’s something slightly off about Nightwing’s usually flawlessly graceful movements; a slight hesitance, almost like if he was a normal person he’d be staggering around. Hood shrugs; while they’re not exactly what anyone would call allies, they’re not enemies either; he might as well go and check on the bird brained wonder. If it turned out that Nightwing fell of a building and died that night, Hood would feel a little bad. Might as well head off any potential guilt by low-key checking him over.

By the time Hood’s feet are touching down on the same rooftop that Nightwing’s standing on, he’s sure that something is up. For one thing, Nightwing’s still there, even though Hood had to come over three buildings, and he’s clearly not staking anywhere out; and the other is the pose he’s standing in. It’s not a particularly odd pose, Hood thinks, but then up on his tiptoes with one arm stretched high above his head, isn’t exactly ‘Wing’s usual, either.

“Wing. Power. Dress. Up!” Nightwing chants, which, weird, Hood thinks. But then it gets weirder. The shadows all around them start swirling and rising, becoming like a whirlwind around Nightwing. In between the rushing shadows, Hood can see ribbons of them reaching out and wrapping around Nightwing, covering up his entire body.

“What the actual fuck?” Hood blurts out, because honestly? What the fuck?

“What? Who’s there?” Nightwing says, staring out of the gradually reducing whirlwind. The shadows recede, and Hood gapes under his helmet at what he sees.

“Night... Wing?” Hood says slowly, unable to take his eyes off the sudden quick change Nightwing’s performed from his usual black and blue skin tight, one piece suit into... Well. The usual flat, extra grip-soled calf high boots have been replaced with black thigh high stiletto high heeled boots that dip into a blue ‘v’ at the very top. The usual black skin tight leggings have been replaced with, well, nothing. Bare skin is on view, and Hood’s fingers twitch, wanting to run his fingertips over that soft looking skin. There is, however, a black skirt, if you can call it that. It’s barely the length of the width of Hood’s hand, extremely tight, yet bright blue ruffles are spilling out under it. The ruffles are the only thing preventing Nightwing’s privates being on display to the whole world.

Two blue strips in the same shade as the skirt and boots, are attached to the centre of the skirt’s waistband, rising up past bared abdominals to a crop top that’s barely covering Nightwing’s pecs and in fact is only held in place by those strips. The strips keep going right up to his shoulders, only to make a sharp turn and follow on down the cap sleeves that do nothing to hide Nightwing’s biceps. Fully in line with the stripe on the sleeve is a blue stripe on the elbow length gloves, the only things that seem to have survived the transformation, apart from the colour scheme and the mask on his face.

“Hood?” Nightwing stares, his mouth dropping open. “No, don’t look!” 

“Uh...” Hood says as Nightwing desperately tries to cover himself only with his hands, one over his groin and the other, oddly, across his chest, as if he’s naked and not in a magical girl costume.

“I said, don’t look!” Nightwing says, glaring through the mask. Or at least Hood assumes he’s glaring, it’s hard to tell to be honest since the mask covers his eyebrows. The eye lenses are narrowed, at least.

“You’re a magical girl?” Hood blurts out, stepping forward automatically to get a better look.

“What part of ‘don’t look’ is confusing for you?” Nightwing snaps, turning away. Unfortunately for him that gives Hood a great look at the back of his costume. It’s just as tight as the front, but the frills rise up higher on the back of the skirt. But the one thing it does prove is that Nightwing does not wear either boxer-briefs or briefs. 

“How does your magical girl skirt have _more coverage_ than the fingerstripes onesie?” Hood says, shaking his head. He leans slightly to the side to get a better look at the back, because he’s a hot blooded male, and this is a once in a lifetime chance to see a magical girl up close.

“I didn’t design this one.” Nightwing huffs, bouncing on his toes and making his heels clack on the rooftop and his skirt lift in the breeze.

“Ah yes, that explains it.” Hood nods distractedly, hoping to get a glimpse of what colour Nightwing’s thong is.

There’s a weird shimmering in the air around Nightwing, and Hood watches as Nightwing takes a step back and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Oh really?” Nightwing says, seemingly to the shimmering.

“Er...” Hood tilts his head, wondering if maybe he should leave Nightwing and his magical shimmering alone.

“So this magical girl thing has some side effects...” Nightwing says, waving at the shimmering. “It does this weird aura thing when a bad guy or a pervert gets near me.”

“It thinks I’m a bad guy? Or a pervert?” Hood knows he’s not exactly a saint; he kills too many people for that, but an actual bad guy? Hood can’t really argue the pervert part though, at least not now. “Rude.”

“I know, sorry. You’re clearly an anti-hero by anyone’s metric.” Nightwing says apologetically. He smiles at Hood, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Yes! Thank you.” Hood rests his hands on his guns at his hips, his fingers aching with the need to squeeze down on something, anything... Nightwing’s ass being the number one thing that springs to mind. Fuckdamnit, he’s better than this. He’s not an actual pervert! Time to distract himself, maybe? “OK, I’ve gotta ask... Were you a magical girl as Robin too, because that would explain a lot; or is this a new development?”

“Oh no, Robin was a circus costu... Uh, no, Robin was not a magical girl thing. It’s a new thing, ever since I ditched the original light and dark blue Nightwing uniform for the fingerstripes.” ‘Wing says with an amused shake of his head. “Don’t ask me why, because you’ll get a really long, involved, answer about my magical teammates and their equally magical enemies that you really don’t want to hear.

“OK then... I’m not gonna ask. So, I’m the bad guy in this scenario? I should tell you that I’m feeling weirdly compelled to grab at your ass.” Hood draws closer, until he’s only a few feet away and Nightwing is easily within arm reach. “Which is really fucking annoying, as I’m usually the guy who shoots other people for doing that.”

“I don’t mind, if it’s you.” Nightwing says, a flirty tilt to the smile on his face. One of the shadows detaches from behind him, creeping up until it’s hovering just under Nightwing’s skirt, hiding the lower part of his cheeks from view. 

“Oh... Hello Mr Censor Bar.” Hood says with relief. With the bar there the urge to grab lessens a little. “Thank you for saving the day.” Jason’s hands wrap around the bar and it sinks an inch or so in the air when he rests his weight on it, trying to get a glimpse under ‘Wing’s skirt despite everything in his head screaming at him to be respectful and lean away.

“I hate that fucking censor bar.” Nightwing sighs. “I try to sit down dressed like this and it sticks to me. I try to peel it away and it’s like glue! But the instant I drop out of this costume, or transform into my uniform, it’s gone!”

“Shush, be nice to my new best friend.” Hood admonishes, squeezing down on the bar a little more. The breeze moves the ruffles and Hood gets to see exactly what’s under the ruffled skirt. Or more accurately, what isn’t under the ruffled skirt. Because there is nothing. Nightwing doesn’t wear any underwear. At all. And that thought drives Hood a little bit more crazy than the outfit alone already has done.

“It always gets in the way.” Nightwing huffs, looking over his shoulder and down at where Hood’s hands are pressing down on the censor bar. “Wait... Did you move it?”

“Uh, a little? Not much.” Hood replies, reaching out one finger, managing to brush just the tip across the bare skin of ‘Wing’s ass. “Are you seriously not wearing any underwear?”

“I didn’t design this outfit!” Nightwing protests, shivering at the touch. “It does what it wants.”

“Uh huh.” Hood nods. “It looks really good on you.”

“You know how it would look better? If it was on your safe house floor.” Nightwing says, voice sultry and inviting. He leans back into Hood, his back resting on Hood’s chest as he looks up at his helmet.

“Wait, really?” Hood says, hardly believing his luck. _The_ Nightwing offering himself up to the Red Hood? Unbelievable!

“You’re the only one who could even move that bar. So, yes. Really.” Nightwing says, licking his lips ever so suggestively.

“I’ve got a safe house nearby.” Hood says, letting his voice drop down an octave.

“Awesome let’s go!” Nightwing says, dropping a quick kiss onto the cheek of Hood’s helmet. “Race you there!”

“OK.” Hood barely has time to say before Nightwing’s running off and shooting a grapple line to jump off the building to the right. Hood waits for Nightwing to realise his mistake and sure enough, ten second later, Nightwing swings back on to the roof.

“Uh... Which way to your safe house?” Nightwing says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“That way.” Hood points to the left. He knows that Nightwing can’t see the huge grin on his face right now, but he can probably hear it in his voice. “See you there.”

“After you.” Nightwing grins, giving a little bow.

Hood sends his own grapple off in the right direction, and seconds later hears Nightwing following after. He can’t wait to get to the safe house and show Nightwing exactly what he can do with that censor bar removed.

~*~

 **ElctrcBluEskrima:**

First of all, Mr Censor Bar is very rude! I’m not surprised that Nightwing doesn’t like him! I’m more surprised that Red Hood does! This was hilarious, and I love the idea that Nightwing’s a magical girl because of Titans shenanigans! :D

Actually I’d love to see what those shenanigans were, it sounds like a real story... But mostly I liked how Red Hood tried his absolute best to be a gentleman during Nightwing’s outfit changes, and that Nightwing saw a chance to get that D and went for it! Good luck Nightwing! Also is Mr Censor Bar like Cinderella’s shoe? Only the ‘One’ can move him? Because that’s awesome!

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Thanks. :) Mr Censor Bar is doing an important and vital job. Nightwing doesn’t appreciate the effort he puts in to a day’s work. (And yes, he does only move for the ‘One’. Nice catch.) 

Those Titans get up to a lot more than you’d think. Let’s just say that either Raven or Wonder Girl had an enemy that watched too much Sailor Moon, and I guess didn’t approve of the original Nightwing outfit. (They wanted more skin, I guess? IDK) 

Hood’s a gentleman when he tries. He mostly doesn’t bother, though, except for Nightwing.


	2. OMG They Were Roommates!

Jason opens the fic archive website to check his comments, of which sadly there are none. It’s not that surprising; he hasn’t posted in nearly two weeks. He’s been too busy, hot on the trail of some arms traffickers. The case sucked up nearly all of his attention until it was done; his apartment is a mess, he hasn’t been grocery shopping in too long, and he’s run out of clean underwear. The only plus is that he hasn’t seen any of the Bats for the entire duration. And tonight he has all the time he could want to catch up on any fic that been posted.

Once he’s done that, it’ll be time to post one of his own. Not that he’s had time to write in a few weeks, but that’s why he keeps a little stockpile of pre-written stories; so that he’ll always have something to post. There’s a challenge going on this week, and luckily Jason just so happens to have something that’s perfect for it. Time to upload it.

~*~

**Room With A View  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: It’s hard living with a roommate when you’re trying to keep them unaware of your secret identity. But _everyone_ has secrets to hide.  
For the Makeup Challenge. 

Not for the first time, and probably not the last time, Jamie has to wonder if living with a roommate is a bad idea, or a _terrible_ one. Instead of being able to go straight home and collapse into bed after a long gruelling night of patrol, he has to go to a safe house to drop off all his guns and his helmet first. It adds time to his trip home that could be better spent sleeping. 

One pro of it is that no one would ever think that the big bad Red Hood shares an apartment and rent with a civilian. Another is that it’s just plain _nice_ to come home and know that there’s someone else there. For the most part, Nick’s a great roommate. Always willing to hang out and chat, but he respects Jamie’s boundaries too. And since Nick works the day shift, while Jamie works the ‘night shift’ there’s some overlap to their schedules, but not so much that it makes the lies about his life too overwhelming.

But there are cons too, and one of them is what’s facing Jamie right now. Which is about eleventy-one different tubes, cases, pots and bottles of makeup all strewn over the bathroom counter, when all he wants to do is brush his teeth before bed. Because Nick constantly fails to pick up after himself.

“NICHOLAS WIYSON!” Jamie yells, staring at the messy counter in despair. He counts to ten and hears feet moving along the corridor.

“You bellowed?” Nick says, popping his head around the doorframe. 

“Dude, seriously?” Jamie points at the makeup taking over the counter. “You know I don’t care how much makeup you have or wear, but you could at least put it away.”

“Sorry.” Nick says, clearly not at all sorry. He looks made up and ready for the day, the barest hint of colour on his eyelids, making his bright blue eyes pop even more, and a suspiciously glossy sheen to his plush lips.

“I have, like, eight things total in a single caddy, and I still have no room to use them.” Jamie complains, probably for the hundredth time since they moved in together.

“That’s because you literally have a shaving kit and your dental hygiene stuff, and nothing else.” Nick points out, gazing with no little judgement on Jamie’s single caddy of razor, spare blades, shaving cream and aftershave, tooth brush, paste, floss and mouthwash. “Although, really with those bags under your eyes, you should at the very least invest in some moisturiser and concealer!”

“No.” Jamie says, giving Nick a flat stare. He reaches out, snagging an empty make up box, planning on sweeping some of stuff on the counter into the box and out of the way. “Dude, at least tidy up after yourself, you’ve got like four boxes for your shit.”

“Stop that, I have a system!” Nick says, knocking Jamie’s hands away from the makeup on the counter. “You’re a cook; would you mix up all your cooking utensils together? No. I keep all the same types of things together too.”

“...Right.” Jamie says slowly. He does do a lot of cooking, so for some reason thought that the best possible cover for his vigilantism was as a night shift cook for some high paying businessman. Nick’s never questioned it, and everyday Jamie’s glad that his helmet has full face coverage, hiding said bags under the eyes.

“All the concealers together, all the foundations, the blushes, and the highlighters and contourers together.” Nick lists off, picking up all the foundation tubes and putting them into the makeup box, taking the now full box from Jamie’s hands and setting it on the back of the counter.

“Do you really need five shades of the same thing?” Jamie says with genuine curiousity. His few memories of when he was little, and helping his mother with her makeup because she was too ill to put it on herself, only include one shade of pretty much everything except lipstick and eyeshadow.

“Yes.” Nick says, his tone firm and sure. He gives Jamie a look that dares him to argue back. Jamie doesn’t take the bait. 

“Are you _sure_ you’re not a drag queen?” Jamie says, letting a little mirth into his voice. It’s a well used joke between them, and it makes Nick smile every time.

“Yes.” Nick shakes his head a little, making his dark hair swing with the movement. It does nothing to hide his smile.

“Maybe you should consider it. I think you’d make a good one.” Jamie grins, leaning up against the bathroom wall.

“Bitch, I’d be a _fabulous_ queen!” Nick says, tossing his hair melodramatically, before sniffing haughtily. But he can’t keep the smile from returning to his mouth. “But I like my day job too. Speaking of, I need to get to work. All the little kids are waiting on me to learn gymnastics! I’ll tidy this all up when I get home, OK? Sleep well!”

“Bye!” Jamie calls out a few beats after Nick leaves the bathroom. Jamie stares down at the counter, still mostly full of makeup, and sighs heavily. “Fuckdamnit... He left without cleaning up, again.”

***

It should have been a quiet night of destroying his enemies’ weapons caches at the docks, but of course this is Gotham, and nothing can ever go quietly. Red Hood sighs as he watches Nightwing do backflips off of his supposedly highly trained thugs with all the grace and ease that people have come to expect from the original Robin (accept no substitutes). 

It’s not like Red Hood hates the first and best Boy Wonder; far from it actually, he’s still got a little of that awe and hero worship that he had for Robin when he was a kid. It’s just that now, instead of being someone to look up to and wish he could be like, Nightwing is a occasional thorn in the side of his otherwise smoothly oiled machine of a business. 

But then all of the Bats don’t seem to have got the memo that Red Hood’s been making things better for his territory, reducing the crime by controlling it. Sure, he’s had to get a bit bloodier than he’d have otherwise liked to, but that’s Gotham, and Jamie is nothing if not a true born and bred Gothamite. A damned prince of Gotham, as his not at all missed old man used to say. Jamie was never sure if Dad had meant that Jamie was prince who was damned or if it was just him minding his curse words, for once. Asking for clarification had never been worth the risk of pissing the man off. 

Jamie dodges as an eskrima stick comes flying straight at him, clanging off the metal support beam behind him. Time to reminisce later; right now he needs to get Nightwing to leave before someone decides to shoot him in his very tightly clad ass, bringing the big bad Bat down on all of them. He shoots up into the rafters with his twin magnums, giving the signal to his men to book it out of there. Naturally, as soon as they try to scatter rather than fight, Nightwing gives chase. 

Jamie turns on the nightvision function in his helmet, trying to track the route that Nightwing took, but one second he was on the ground, somersaulting over two rival thugs; and the next he’s completely vanished from sight. Looking up, he can’t even see him or his shadow on the rooftop. 

“Hey Boss, we lost him.” Michaels, one of his mid-level thugs tells him apologetically. “We got the weapons though. Reyes and Azullo are loading them into the trucks right now.”

“Keep an eye out, he’s slippery.” Jamie says, his helmet modulating his voice to blandness, with a touch of mechanical crackle for extra flavour.

“Will do, Boss.” Michaels nods. “We know what to do if he pops up again. With any luck he’ll stick to Black Mask’s men.”

“You should be so lucky. Remember, if you see any of the Bats - protocol thirty-six.” Jamie says, narrowing his eyes at Michaels.

Michaels nod nervously, and darts off to jump into one of the trucks. He’s really too young to be one of Jamie’s lieutenants, but at least if he’s working for him, he gets medical and dental and time off, unlike the other crimelords in Gotham. Jamie blinks, realising that Michaels is actually the exact same age as him. Weird. 

“So, what’s protocol thirty-six?” a voice from deep inside the shadows behind Jamie says. “I’m intrigued.”

“That’s not any of your business, _Nightwing_.” Jamie turns around to eye the barely visible vigilante currently hanging upside from the warehouse rooftop. “Who d’ya think you are? Spider-man? Get down from there.”

“Rude! I clearly came into the world before the comic book character, thank you.” Nightwing says with a sniff, not moving at all. 

“Huh, and from your outfit I thought you was a young ‘un.” Jamie tilts his head as his helmet scans Nightwing, telling him that he has no weapons on him besides a few bird-shaped throwing stars and his escrima sticks. Of course, it doesn’t tell him that Nightwing’s entire body is a weapon, but then it doesn’t really need to.

“Red Hood. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t arrest and leave you for the GCPD right now.” Nightwing says, more pompously than he really should in Jamie’s opinion. The Bats might be good for taking down the ridiculously themed and costumed villains, but their self righteousness is unbearable when it comes to good old-fashioned, organised crime.

“I mean you could?” Red Hood shrugs. “But we both know that the cops would let me go on the spot; I’d never even make it to the precinct. Because unlike you, half the cops appreciate what I do to keep crime controlled.”

“Police corruption aside...” Nightwing starts to say, and Jamie rolls his eyes and interrupts whatever lecture Nightwing’s about to give.

“No. You said one reason, and police corruption is a damn good one.” Jamie crosses his arms, and stands straight and tall in front of Nightwing.

“I’m going to take you down one day, Hood. Just you wait.” Nightwing lowers himself down so that their heads are level and Jamie can see his face a little better in the low light.

“OK, see, you say that to be threatening, but licking your lips while doing that gives another impression entirely.” Jamie says, fully aware that Nightwing can’t see his leer under the mask. “Of a sexual nature, to be clear.”

“What!?” Nightwing says, sounding confused.

“I mean everyone’s heard the rumours of you deepthroating Deathstroke on that rooftop last year.” Jamie shrugs, enjoying the way Nightwing’s mouth gapes open.

“I did not!” Nightwing splutters, totally affronted. “I wouldn’t! Not with him, at least.”

“Good, you could do way better than him.” Jamie says offhandedly, checking the time display in his helmet. It’s been long enough that his men should be well away.

“I totally can.” Nightwing nods, the effect odd as he’s still upside down.

“Right, well this has been... A thing that happened. Time for me to go.” Jamie says, throwing a smoke bomb. Nightwing splutters again, and once the smoke has cleared, Jamie is gone.

***

It’s really late in the morning when Jamie drags himself through the door to his apartment. He wants nothing more than to sleep. He doesn’t even care about brushing his teeth or shaving. It’s late enough that Nick should be at work by now, so he doesn’t bother being quiet when he comes in. He lets his bag drop to the floor with a thump and is startled when he sees an arm flail up into the air. 

“What the fuck!” Jamie blurts out, reaching for the gun that is definitely not strapped to his thigh right now.

“Jamie? Shit, I didn’t realise it was this late.” Nick says, fighting to pull himself up over the back of the sofa. 

“The fuck happened to you! Your face!” Jamie says, more loudly than he intended.

“Uh... I got mugged last night.” Nick says, ducking back down behind the sofa. “They messed up my face and my hand. I couldn’t get any makeup on this morning, even.” 

“Damn, dude.” Jamie sighs, moving around the sofa to get a better look. “Oh fuck, they really did a number on you, huh?” Nick’s face is a mass of bruising all down one side, ranging in colours from ugly yellow to a deep purple. His right hand looks like someone stamped on it repeatedly. It’s not in a cast, so it’s probably not broken, but it’s definitely out of action. 

“You should see the other guy.” Nick says trying to smile and then wincing at the pain it causes. He ducks his head letting his midnight black hair fall over his forehead.

“Not a scratch on him?” Jamie jokes, flopping down on the sofa next to Nick. Up close the bruising looks even worse and Jamie winces in sympathy.

“You’re going to say ‘Nickernoodle, did you go to the cops?’ aren’t you?” Nick sighs, moving his hurt hand back to his lap. 

“Actually, _Snickerdoodle_ , I was gonna say how long’s it been since you last iced your face?” Jamie says, raising an eyebrow. “As if I’d tell anyone to go to the cops in _Gotham_. Have you even met me?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Nick huffs rolling his eyes, and then looking down at his hand in his lap. “Long enough that I should probably do it again.”

“I’ll get it.” Jamie offers, getting up to fetch a packet of peas from the freezer and handing them to Nick as he sits down again. “You call your folks yet?”

“No. I didn’t want them to worry.” Nick sighs sharply as he presses the frozen peas to his face. “I’m meant to go over tonight for... A family dinner, but if they see me like this, they’ll freak and I don’t know, try to lock me in my old bedroom.”

“I can just see your little brother interrogating you about it. ‘Nickernoodle Snickerdoodle Wiyson! What did you do to your stupid face?’” Jamie says in the high pitched posh boy tones that Nick’s little brother uses.

“...I would pay good money to hear Daniel call me Nickernoodle Snickerdoodle.” Nick snorts, blue eyes bright with mirth until the pain in his facial muscles catches up with him.

“Me too.” Jamie grins. “You can’t beg off dinner? You don’t look like you should be going anywhere really.”

“No, I used up all my passes already. Exceptions for Asylum-wide Arkham Breakouts, and Fullscale Alien Invasions can only be used if those things actually happen.” Nick pouts, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “No getting out of this one. It’d probably be OK if I could put some makeup on to hide the worst of it, but my hand hurts too much.”

Nick falls silent and Jamie has a brief internal debate with himself over the pros and cons of offering to help before finally saying. “So, you want me to help you with your face then?” 

“Oh my god, yes please, Jamie.” Nick opens his eyes, staring at him. “That would be amazing. It doesn’t need to be a full face, just some cover up of the worst of it.”

A few minutes later, they’ve decamped to the bathroom and Nick opens up all his makeup caddies. “Primer first!”

“Yeah, yeah. Primer first, then concealer, and foundation.” Jamie nods. “I still remember from helping my mom as a kid. But I guess you won’t need any blush, right? And if you want any contouring you can forget it. My skills are definitely not up to that.” 

“We’ll stick with the basics.” Nick agrees, his eyes amused. “I’m curious how well this is going to come out.”

“I’m okay at doing other people.” Jamie shrugs. “Never felt the urge to do it on myself though.”

Jamie leans in close as he applies the primer to Nick’s face. It feels strangely intimate in a way it never did with his mother. He can see the different shades of blue in Nick’s eyes. The backs of his fingers brush into the dark hair that’s as soft as it looks. The good side of Nick’s face is paler than Jamie thought it was, but the skin is smooth and clear, and if Jamie runs his fingers over it once more than necessary, well, that’s his business.

It takes a while to cover up the bruises to a place where Nick feels comfortable letting his family see, and Jamie soaks up every second. It’s a surprising realisation, the fact that he’s enjoying being this close to Nick; that it’s something that he’s wanted for longer than he’s let himself think about.

“OK, I think we’re done then.” Jamie tries to keep the regret that they can’t stay close any longer out of his voice. The bruises are visible, but lessened. The fact that Nick wears makeup regularly helps a lot, and hopefully people will think he’s just gone heavy handed today. 

“It’s perfect.” Nick checks himself out in the mirror, smiling widely. “OK, I’ve really got to go! Love you, bye!” Nick says in a rush, going up on tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to Jamie’s mouth before dashing out of the bathroom.

“Bye!” Jamie licks his lips, tasting the peach-flavoured remnants of Nick’s lipgloss. “Holy fuck he kissed me... I wanna do that again.”

~*~

After several hours of sleep, Jason finally drags himself from his bed just before noon. Since he posted at ass o’clock in the morning, he’s not expecting many comments to his latest fic yet. Because Alfred hammered some manners into him, he tries to respond as quickly as he can. He checks his fic archive inbox after brushing his teeth and grabbing a mug of tea. To his relief, there are a couple; the first, anonymous one, is a few lines of hearts to which he responds with a simple ‘thank you! :)’.

The second one is a username that he doesn’t recognise. ‘OMG LOL, this was adorable! I’m so jealous they get to live together! I want to live there too.’ Jason shoots back a quick ‘Haha, IKR? Me too. Thanks for commenting.’

And of course, the last comment so far is the one he’s been hoping for, from ElctrcBluEskrima. Blue has, without fail since Jason started posting his writing, always commented within the first few hours of it being up.

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

Nickernoodle Snickerdoodle! I love it!

Aww, Jamie’s such a good roommate helping Nick with his facepaint! It makes total sense that he uses makeup to hide the bruises on his face that he gets as Nightwing... Which I guess is good reason for wearing a full helmet, it must cut down on the obvious facial injuries so much!

By the way, thank you for the image of a baby Jamie helping his mom with her makeup! It’s too adorable! Kind of sad and heartbreaking too, but adorable! <3

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Sometimes you just need to give your ridiculous roommate an equally ridiculous nickname, lol. 

Oh yeah, that helmet must cut down on bruising and scarring, and people guessing his identity. Jamie has his moments of being an asshole, and being really nice. His feelings for Nick are creeping in there.

Uh, the kid Jamie helping his mom with her makeup comes from my real life. Yeah :( They’re vaguely useful lifeskills, I guess? Like Jamie I can only apply those skills to other people. I try on myself and I stab my eyes out with the eyeliner. Bleeding eyes is not an attractive look ever.


	3. Actor & Sentinel AU/Gotham City Garage

In the three weeks since Jason last posted, he’s had several run-ins with Dick. It’s not logical, but it feels like whereever Jason goes, there Dick is. Ready and all too willing to pop up when it’s most inconvenient, showing off how much better he is than Jason. More flexible, righteous, funnier, and more popular. If Jason admitted that he had a heart, he might find it a little heartbreaking; but he tells himself he doesn’t, so it’s merely annoying.

Dick doesn’t even talk to him half the time, simply swooping in and taking out whatever thugs that Jason hadn’t got to yet. It’s frustrating, because Jason can’t tell if Dick thinks he’s helping Jason, or stopping him from causing maximum carnage. 

But now’s not the time to think about that.

Now’s the time to post another story; one he’d had a few requests for. Despite his lack of familiarity with the source material, something that’s older than he is, Jason’s sort of fond of this one. He hopes his readers like it as much as he does.

~*~

**All The World’s A Stage  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: Filming the new hit show Gotham City Garage is tough for Jamie, because half his acting skills are going on hiding his huge crush on his co-star, Nick; the rest of the time he’s trying to navigate the new strength of his enhanced senses. 

When the main romance in the show takes a sudden and surprising twist away from what nearly everyone expected it to, Nick’s insists on giving Jamie his help, changing things between them considerably. 

_On Set:_

It’s unsurprisingly hot, dry, and dusty in the desert, and Jamie hates it with a vengeance. He’s a city boy through and through, so while his upbringing means he can deal with the heat (they were too poor for a functioning AC) the dry and dust get to him. It does work in his favour though; his character on Gotham City Garage is notorious for being an angry, out-for-himself-and-his-gang-only type; so Jamie channels all his frustration into his performance.

Even so, he wishes that the environment they’d picked to set the post-apocalyptic world could’ve been less sandy. A few more plants to break up the monotony of sand dunes, and yet more sand dunes. There’s the occasional cliff he supposes, and some of the lucky bastards playing the good guys get to film in the city. But not Jaime, oh no, he’s stuck out in the desert in sweltering temperatures wearing motorcycle leathers and a helmet most of the time.

The location’s not his idea of a good time, putting it politely. If he wasn’t having so much fun playing his character, he probably wouldn’t have come back to GCG and the Red Hood after his one-off appearance turned into a recurring role. He’s not complaining about having a steady income either. 

Just putting on his costume before a scene makes him feel good, energised to act. The plain white t-shirt, jeans and leather chaps with motorcycle boots, the red accented black leather gloves, and jacket emblazoned ‘BOSS’ might be basically a tweaked Mad Max cosplay, but once Jamie gets that red helmet on, he slips into being the boss of the baddest motorcycle gang of the freescape. The fact that he has his own couple of bikes in the vehicle lockup, specifically for his character only adds to how powerful he feels.

As hot as being covered up from foot to toe is, he still has it better than Nick, who plays the Love Interest of the Main Character. Nick’s character wears all black, a leather jacket, leather pants, boots and gloves and nothing else but a huge blue tattoo across his chest. Nick even has to wear a thong under his pants, because anything else would show under his pants. Jaime walked in on him once getting into costume, and more than an eyeful of perfectly tanned and toned backside. 

Nick had laughed it off as nothing but the fleetingly embarrassing moment it was; but for Jaime it was the start of some very fraught nights where he saw that ass in 400k high definition every time he shut his eyes. Then Nick’s amused chuckle would invade his ears, and Jaime would have to fight off the visions of Nick sprawling out over his motorcycle, those tight pants undone at the fly, inviting Jaime to touch him however he wants.

It’s bad enough having a crush on his ridiculously good looking co-worker, but Nick’s unfailing nice and friendly, and it drives Jamie to distraction; especially on set when Nick slips into the mega flirty mode of his character, and proceeds to wink, and give that _fucking_ smile to whoever moves in his range of sight. He thanks every possible deity out there that he doesn’t believe in that most of the time he’s got his helmet covering his face, and that when he doesn’t, the redness can be explained away as overheating.

He does his best to ignore the fact that sometimes he hears Nick’s heart beating that bit faster whenever he stands close. It can’t mean anything, no matter how much Jamie wants it too.

***

_Gotham City Garage:_

Big Al’s stands as a beacon in the gloom of the dark Freescape night. Light shines from every window and doorway of the building, beckoning in any travellers brave or foolhardy enough to not be in bed at this time of night. Nightwing and Kara park their bikes close to the entrance, giving each other a significant look before walking through the brightly lit door.

Inside is a riot of different groups, Red Hoods, The Hawks, even a few Leaguers. There’s loud music playing from an old antiquated jukebox that somehow, even after all these years after the Worldburn, hasn’t given up the ghost. It’s an angry song, all screaming guitars and vicious vocals clamouring for dominance over lyrics that make little sense to anyone born after the Worldburn. Which is probably why Big Al likes that music so much. He likes to say that if the world ending hadn’t got rid of him, then no one in the Freescape would be able to either. 

But for once, Nightwing and Kara aren’t here to have a drink and hear one of Al’s pre-Worldburn stories. They’re here for information from one specific group of the various unsavoury types that also frequent Al’s bar. The Red Hood Motorcycle Club.

They’ve taken over the bar tonight, as they usually do when they’re there. Al’s got his shotgun on the bar, a clear show of willing force should any of them get too rowdy. Nightwing gets the drinks while Kara tries to spot someone drunk enough not to remember who was asking questions, but not too drunk to talk. 

The jukebox stutters, the needle skipping over the same part of the song several times until one red gloved fist smacks the side of it, setting it right. The crowd parts, and Nightwing sees the face of the man who’s sitting right next to the jukebox. It’s the eponymous Red Hood himself, for once without his helmet. Nightwing recognises the scruffy beard and messy head of helmet hair.

Red Hood looks over and spots Nightwing within seconds, frowning deeply and opening his mouth to speak before he closes it in a smirk without speaking to his second sitting beside him. Something about that smirk makes Nightwing look around for Kara with a sense of urgency. He’s well aware she can look after herself, but there are too many RHMC members here not to be wary, especially when their leader is giving Nightwing that _look_. The one that says he wants to chew him up and spit him out. He’s never forgiven Nightwing for outriding him that one time.

“Nightwing.” Red Hood calls out, and the entire bar falls silent; all the Hoods turning to look at their leader. “Join me for a drink.” It’s not a request, it’s an order. Everyone looks to Nightwing to see what he’ll do. Even Big Al is sending him a raised eyebrow.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Nightwing says, pulling on a fake smile that seems unlikely to fool anyone. Nightwing makes his way over to the back booth, his own favourite spot to sit in when the Hoods aren’t there. He sits down across the table from Red Hood. “What can I do you for, Red?”

“I can think of a few things, _Nightwing_.” Red says, staring Nightwing down with a steely glint in his eyes. “Starting with your pound of flesh...”

“Well, gosh, Red. Buy a guy a drink first.” Nightwing says, leering and winking in an attempt to make Red uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to work, but quite satisfactorily, Red’s second chokes on his drink.

“Oh please, I’ve heard your version of a pickup line.” Red leans forward conspiratorially. “You talk about me a lot, you know? Should I feel flattered?” 

“Hardly. You’re scum.” Nightwing scoffs, keeping a hard unimpressed look on his face.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Red laughs, gesturing to his second in a ‘get a load of this guy, way’. “Either way, you keep talking about me. Makes me think you want people to associate us together. But that can’t be, right? I mean you’re Catwoman’s boytoy, and here I am, a gang leader. So what _do_ you actually want?”

Nightwing smirks nastily. “Right now, away from here. More generally? Any intel you’ve got on Lex would be...” Nightwing stops, narrowing his eyes. “Paid for.”

“Because Lex _doesn’t_ love us, right?” Red sneers. “Well, you said the magic words, so I guess we could do a deal. What are you offering?”

“What have you got?” Nightwing parries back, only to watch Red roll his eyes. It betrays how young he really is, and not for the first time Nightwing wonders what kind of life the kid must’ve lead to be in charge so young.

“A supply route. It’s not carrying weapons, so we don’t need it.” Red sits back, eyes glittering with menace. “Whaddya think, Charlie? Should we take payment in kind?”

“I think an actual whore’s gonna be cheaper, and less likely to stab you in the back, Boss.” Charlie shrugs, staring into his drink, clearly wanting to be anywhere else right now. “But it’s your call.”

“See, Charlie here doesn’t think much of you, Nightie.” Red smirks, enjoying Nightwing’s bristling at the implied name-calling. “And no matter how much you advertise, I think I gotta agree with him.”

“You...” Nightwing seethes. “You utter scumsucking cave-dwelling, _fucks_!”

“Since we’re the big spenders in here tonight, Al’s probably gonna take our side in a brawl... So I suggest you take your GCG girl and ride on away from here.” Red waves Nightwing away, whatever entertainment he’d found in talking to Nightwing gone. “Get your perky little ass out the door.”

***

_On Set:_

It could be anything, really, that’s sets off the spikes in Jamie’s senses. But he’s had training in managing them, which while no substitute for an actual Guide to watch his back, at least lets him maintain a functional life. But in the last month, they’ve got worse. Jamie’s had to resort to wearing his helmet in between takes on the set just to limit the amount of sensory input he’s been getting. He’ll be minding his own business, reading a book, and without warning his eyes will drift away from the words to focus on the grain of the paper and the evenness of the ink in the print. He’ll be walking through the set, and the smell of coffee a block over will invade his nose, leaving him wandering after it. He doesn’t even like coffee!

Last week, he’d got lost in the sound of a song playing over the radio, only to realise once the song finished that it was from three houses away. Just yesterday he’d got into bed, deeply tired, sinking his fingers into soft chenille throw and losing an hour of sleep to feeling the fibres within. Right now, he’s doing his best to choke down one of the crew’s homemade cookies. Everyone else is smiling and saying how delicious they are, but to Jamie it’s like swallowing down a raw ghost chilli pepper.

Obviously he’s not being surreptitious enough about spitting the last of it into a serviette, because Nick sidles over to him with a commiserating smile on his handsome face. “Not to your taste?” 

“They’re fine.” Jamie says quickly, feeling awkward in the face of Nick’s concern. “I’m assuming. I couldn’t really tell.”

Nick looks him over, frowning as his hair fall over his face. “I didn’t know you were Sentinel. Do you have a Guide? They should be helping you with your spikes right now.”

“Uh... Yeah, no, I don’t have a Guide.” Jamie tries to wash the taste of the cookie out of his mouth with water from his bottle. “I haven’t had any this bad since I went to the Ellison Academy.”

“Oh, you went to the Academy? I was at the Sandburg Institute!” Nick says, face lit up with delight. It makes Jamie’s stomach flip flop in what would be a pleasant way if not for the cookie sitting heavy in there right now.

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie says, shrugging and finally managing to throw his serviette in the trash. “You were a couple of years ahead of me in the programme, but everyone knew who Nick Wiyson was.”

“I wasn’t that impressive.” Nick ducks his head, a faint flush on his face. “I had good teachers, that’s all.”

“Really? Because I remember the competition to be your Sentinel was _rough_. Not that I tried.” Jamie says, grinning at the memory of Sentinels literally sabotaging each other just to get the chance to walk past Nick. 

“I do remember a few Sentinels getting pushed into fountains?” Nick says with a small grin. “Could that be what you mean?”

“Might be.” Jamie says, getting caught up in the sparkling blue of Nick’s eyes. He blinks, and realises that the spike in taste has gone completely. It must be the effect of having a Guide being so close. “Did you ever pick a Sentinel? I don’t think I’ve seen another one in town.”

“Oh. No. Never managed to connect with anyone properly.” Nick looks away, shamefaced, and Jamie realises that he’s stepped on a sore spot. The faint bitter, acrid scent of longing and rejection wafts by him.

“I get that. I’ve had the same problem.” Jamie says gently, after a pause that was probably, definitely, too long for comfort.

“Well, there’s always hope right?” Nick says, giving him a searching look that confuses Jamie. 

Jamie shrugs, patting Nick on the shoulder, hoping it comes across as nothing but friendly, and not a sign of how much he’d like to push the man up against a wall and kiss him senseless. “So I’m told.”

***

_Gotham City Garage:_

“I’m not sure if you’ve got a deathwish or if you’re just that cocky.” Red says with a sigh, staring down at Nightwing, on his knees on the floor, both arms held tightly by Red’s men.

“I need to talk to you.” Nightwing says, glaring up at him.

“And I should listen to you, _why_?” Red huffs, taking a seat on the nearby chair. “Alright, boys you can let the pretty bird up. And you can leave.” The Hoods look between each other but do as Red’s ordered without a word. It’s no surprise that Red is confident and secure right now, after all they’re in his private quarters in the RHMC base in the Red Reaches. Nightwing’s not getting anywhere with Red keeping an eye on him.

“I have a proposition for you.” Nightwing says, getting to his feet and looking around the bare room. There’s a desk with a few books on it, the chair that Red’s occupying, and of course, the bed. There’s not much else there, and certainly nothing Nightwing can use as a weapon. “The Garage needs your help. Lex is coming for us, and with you fighting on our side, it’s a guaranteed victory.”

“And what do we get out of this?” Red spreads his hands wide. “It’s gotta be pretty damn good to go up against Lex. Which by the way, even I can recognise is a suicidal move.”

“What you want.” Nightwing closes his eyes for a second, opening them to walk forward into arm reach of Red.

Red scoffs, sprawling back in the chair. “The Red Hood Motorcycle Club wants weapons, and nothing more. And you’ve got none.”

“That’s not true.” Nightwing takes a deep breath. “You want me. And you can have me.”

“You think you’re a good enough fuck that one time will be enough to make me team up with the Garage?” Red shakes his head, although the way his gaze moves over Nightwing it’s clear he’s interested. “You think too much of yourself.”

“Who says it’s only one time?” Nightwing looks at Red through his lashes, tentatively moving to straddle Red’s lap. If he’s going to seduce Red, he might as well go all in.

“You’re that desperate?” Red smirks, tilting his chair back so that the front legs leave the floor and Nightwing is pitched forward, his hands resting on Red’s stomach. “Have some self respect.”

“If I can get you to at least think about it, it’s worth it.” Nightwing shrugs, leaning in so that his breath is blown into Red’s face.

“Nightwing.” Red says, warning in his voice, but there’s no turning back now. Nightwing’s jacket falls to the floor leaving his top half entirely bare. He slides his hand down, unbuttoning Red’s fly and into the flap.

“Oh. You’re a big...” Nightwing bites his lip, both trying to hide that fact that this is meant to be nothing but a business transaction, and the fact that he’s enjoying it. He shouldn’t be, so he makes his voice as breathless as he dares and flirts harder. “You know, there’s nothing I like more than having a powerful machine between my legs.”

“Nothing mechanical about me.” Red grunts, narrowing his eyes as Nightwing moves his hand up and down.

“I can tell.” Nightwing grins, rocking his hips against Red. There’s no point in trying to pretend how much he’s into this now. It’s obvious from the way his body presses up on Red, and from a quick glance down.

“You want it that bad, Nightwing? You ride it.” Red smirks, gripping on to Nightwing’s hips and increasing the roll of their bodies together. “Let’s see if you can outride this, too.”

An hour later finds them naked on the bed, Red lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling; a cigarette in one hand, and the other trailing up and down the bare skin of Nightwing’s back with one finger.

“That was better than I expected.” Nightwing says, shifting closer to press his body up alongside Red’s. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell from how excited you got.” Red says dryly. Nightwing reaches up with the arm slung over his waist and lightly slaps at his shoulder.

“Might even be worth another go...” Nightwing pushes himself up, straddling Red’s hips again.

“I’m starting to think this is your favourite position, Nightie.” Red smirks up at Nightwing resting his hands over the sheet pooling around his hips to hold them in place.

“Maybe it is...” Nightwing moans breathily, tipping his head back as Red sits up to get in close to his face, wrapping his arms tightly around his back. 

“I’m not the guy who’ll say no to a second round.” Red pulls Nightwing in closer. “But if you think this is going to help the Garage, you’re delusional.”

“No. No, this is...” Nightwing rests his forehead against Red’s. He rolls his hips, sinking down on Red and gasping as he’s filled. “This is for _me_. Just for me.”

“In that case...” Red twists them so that Nightwing’s on his back on the bed, his bulk pinning him down. Their fingers intertwine, and Red starts thrusting deeply. “I’d better make sure it’s memorable.” Nightwing wraps his legs around Red, and throws his head back as he cries out in pleasure.

***

_On Set:_

“And... Action!” The director yells, and Nick moves back into position, sitting in Jamie’s lap.

“I’m starting to think this is your favourite position, Nightie.” Jamie smirks up at Nick, resting his hands over the sheet pooling around Nick’s hips to hold it in place, covering up the underwear that neither of them are meant to be wearing in this scene.

“Maybe it is...” Nick moans breathily, tipping his head back as Jamie sits up to get in close to his face, wrapping his arms tightly around Nick’s back. His next line is drowned out by the sound of lights exploding. Three loud bangs, and the brightly lit bed is plunged into gloom.

“What the fuck?” Jamie mutters, peering into the gloom. For him it’s easy enough to see the shards of scattered glass and the faint wisps of smoke from the blown breaker.

“Jeez, guys. I know this is meant to be earthshakingly good sex, but we’re not quite there yet!” Nick yells, to a round of laughter.

“Sorry guys! Can you stay in position until we replace the lights? Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.” A voice calls out from the crew.

“Yeah, no problem!” Nick replies. “You can take me sitting in your lap for that long, right, big guy?”

“I’ll live, somehow.” Jamie replies dryly. 

The crew is busy at work replacing the lights, and conversation between them peters out. Jamie’s fingers twitch along Nick’s back, getting lost in the smooth silky skin there. The rest of the world falls away, leaving Jamie with nothing but the grain of Nick’s skin, his body heat and the slight movement of his ribcage. He’s so deep into the spike that he can’t hear Nick talking to him quietly, rubbing his hands on Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie blinks, and the world turns blue. He looks down to see his wolf staring up at him with a distinctly unimpressed and almost aggrieved look. Because of course the thing that Jamie needs to do, right in the middle of filming a sex scene no less, is have a spirit vision! He sighs, and his wolf runs through the forest, not caring if Jamie’s following or not. Which, of course he is. He pushes through the undergrowth to see his wolf sitting there waiting for him.

A small, brightly coloured bird flies into the glade, circling Jamie before setting down on his wolf’s head. It leans over and pecks once between his eyes. Then it sits down on the wolf’s head, as if it belongs there. The bird and wolf stare up at Jamie, apparently waiting for his reaction.

Jamie reaches out, and as soon as his fingers brush the feathers of the bird it morphs into Nick. Jamie would have lurched back if not for the grip that Nick has on his wrist. “Can you hear me?” Nick says slightly frantically.

“Yeah.” Jamie says slowly, his hand wrapping around Nick’s wrist without his permission.

“Good. I’ve been talking to you for ten minutes already.” Nick gives Jamie a worried look. “Can you wake up? We’re almost ready to start reshooting the scene.”

“Yeah.” Jamie blinks. “Never managed to talk to a Guide in a vision before.”

“Jamie! You need to come out of it.” Nick says more insistently, his grip on Jamie’s wrist tightening.

“Right. Filming.” Jamie takes a deep breath, feeling his way back, concentrating on the feel of Nick’s pulse, and the sound of his heartbeat. “Got it.”

“Welcome back.” Nick breathes out, his hands relaxing on Jamie’s shoulders. “We should talk about this later, though.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Jamie nods, fighting off the urge to get lost in Nick’s eyes.

The lights switch back on to whoops from the crew. “We’re ready to go guys, from the top if we can!”

“I think they mean you!” Nick snorts, and Jamie’s reassured by the fact that some crew members groan along with him. The clapper board claps, the scene number is read out, and ‘Action’ is cried out by the director.

“I’m starting to think this is your favourite position, Nightie.” Jamie smirks up at Nick, resting his hands over the sheet pooling around his hips to hold them in place, for the second time that day. Jamie’s hands twitch involuntarily, fingers digging in deeper.

“Maybe it is...” Nick moans breathily, tipping his head back as Jamie sits up to get in close to his face, wrapping his arms tightly around his back. But this time there’s an amused and promising gleam in his eyes as he stares back at Jamie. 

***

_Gotham City Garage:_

Nightwing stares at the battlefield from his position on the back of Red’s bike. As they drive closer it’s easy to see how utterly outnumbered the Garage is against the masses of Ra’s Al Ghul’s League. The carnage left in the desert from Catwoman’s sacrifice, blowing up Lex’s forces is immense, but it doesn’t seem to faze Red or his Hoods.

The RHMC is yelling battle cries at the top of their voices, “BONES! BONES! RED HOODS ON THE RIDE!” Nightwing and Red drive past the Garage, plunging into the fighting. “We want your _meat_!”

“Miss me, ladies?” Red smirks as they pass by Kara and Wonder Woman. Neither look particularly impressed, but when Nightwing jumps from the back of the bike, Kara spares him a smile.

“Sorry, we’re late. The Red Reaches is further from here than you’d think.” Nightwing says, shrugging as he grabs a stunblastergun from Steel.

“The Garage is your prize, Al Ghul! Raze it to the ground!” Lex’s voice booms out of his exosuit, and the League goes into overdrive, heading towards the Garage and the mass of the Red Hoods attempting to blockade it.

Nightwing follows after Big Barda and Wonder Woman as they leap into the fray, while Steel and Kara go for Lex. Nightwing can’t think about that now, though, he’s too busy avoiding League bikes. 

“LEAGUE, CUT THEM DOWN!” Ra’s commands, the old man’s cape fluttering in his drag.

“Bring it, you old fuck!” Red snarls, and from there, he and Nightwing lose track of each other. 

Half the fighters are off their bikes, punching and kicking, shots of blasterguns, grenades and shotguns up against arrows and swords. It’s confusion and chaos, noise and sand flying everywhere, amid bodies falling, and bikes exploding or ripping into pieces. 

Nightwing uses all his skills that he learnt as a Gardener to take down League members, dodging the arrows and weapons sent his way. He flips and twists over the vehicles coming towards him, thanking Catwoman once again for her training. The clash of metal on metal, the grinding, squealing give of steel on steel becomes the only thing he can hear over his heartbeat in his ears. He finally spots Red, facing off against Ra’s. Nightwing pushes through the melee, knowing that if they lose Red, the Hoods will turn tail within seconds, and they’ll be nothing but the reflection of taillights in the Freescape. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side too long, Hood-brat.” Ra’s snarls, flipping his cape over his shoulder as he lunges at Red with a sword in his hand.

“That’s your own fault for not dying, you fucking dinosaur.” Red spits back, jerking out of the way at the last moment. Nightwing realises with a heart stopping panic that Red’s completely unarmed.

“I look forward to the moment when I throw your disembodied head at the feet of your women, and their wailing echoes around the Freescape.” Ra’s says coldly, spinning away from a punch from Red that ends up denting the bike he lands on.

“Joke’s on you, bitch. I don’t have any _women_.” Red says, disengaging himself from the twisted hunk of burning bike. He looks up and makes contact with Nightwing. “I’ve got something much _better_.”

“And what could that possibly be?” Ra’s scoffs, stepping forward until the point of his sword is almost at Red’s throat.

“Nightwing.” Red says with a toothy, bloody smile. Nightwing’s blood boils at the thought that someone did enough damage to Red that his teeth are coated with blood.

“What?” Ra’s pauses, confusion at the unfamiliar term on his face. His hesitation gives Nightwing the perfect opportunity to Nightwing send a stunblaster shot right into Ra’s chest. 

It’s not enough to kill him, but it gives Nightwing the time to get to Red’s side. “That would be _me_.”

Ra’s grunts, barely flicking a hand, but it’s enough of a signal for his flunkies to swamp them. There’s no time to talk as Nightwing and Red end up back to back, fighting off a wave of Leaguers. Ra’s disappears into the crowd, and by the time Red and Nightwing have cleared enough space around them that they can pause to breathe, the League decides to fallback around Ra’s, at the edges of the battlefield.

“You’re bleeding. Are you alright?” Nightwing says, his voice coming out steady, somehow.

“What? Oh. No, it’s not mine. I bit someone.” Red grins, showing off his bloody teeth again. “Why, were you worried about me? That’s so sweet.”

Nightwing glares at Red. “Actually, I was hoping you weren’t, so our deal would be done.”

“Nah. You were worried.” Red smirks, grabbing at Nightwing’s wrist. “It’s OK to admit you don’t hate me. I’m not gonna tell.”

“You’re scum.” Nightwing says, shaking his head, but he can’t stop a small smile from tugging at his lips.

“And like scum, I grow on you.” Red grins, grabbing a bike from a nearby pile and taking a seat on it. Somehow, miraculously, it’s actually his.

“Goddamnit. Yes, you do.” Nightwing sighs, jumping up onto the back of the bike. Red revs the engine and drives closer to the Garage, and the remaining fight against Lex and his giant exosuit.

Nightwing stands up on the pillion of the bike, whooping as Kara, Barda and the rest of the ladies take it in turns to punch the living hell out of Lex. It’s wonderfully cathartic, and even Red’s grinning at the show. The exosuit is ripped apart by Wonder Woman and Barda, leaving Lex kneeling in the sand, the picture of defeat. 

Seeing Lex brought down, the League withdraws fully, turning tail to return to their caverns and their isolationist ways. The cheers from the Red Hoods echo around the battlefield, only the burning of the Garage in the background as any competition.

“They should kill him.” Red mutters, watching as the ladies of the Garage walk away, leaving Lex kneeling where he fell. “He’ll only come back again.”

“Only if Harley didn’t do her part.” Nightwing shrugs, slipping down to sit on the pillion.

“Do I even want to know?” Red says, shaking his head with a smile. 

“You know? Probably not.” Nightwing grins, resting his chin on Red’s shoulder. 

A Hood drives past, quirking an eyebrow at the show, but choosing not to comment on it. “Back to the Red Reaches, Boss?”

“Yeah. Don’t think the Garage is in any state to host a victory meal.” Red snorts. “Back home, you cocksuckers!”

“So...” Nightwing sighs, leaning back. “I should probably stick around? Maybe?”

“Oh no. You’re coming back with me, sweetheart.” Red says throwing a leer over his shoulder. “I wanna fuck you repeatedly, _Nightie_.”

***

_On Set:_

For the last three days since Jamie slipped into a spirit vision with Nick in his lap, he’s not had a single spike. He’s not complaining; but the trade off has been that he’s even more hyperaware of Nick than he ever has been before. Jamie’s own heartbeat has always been a constant background thrumming, something that doesn’t register unless he’s really exerting himself physically. But now? Now he hears Nick’s heartbeat all the time. The scent of Nick’s emotions is always in his nose, and he can practically taste it when Nick’s happy, angry, horny, satisfied or sad, for whatever reason.

None of that is a problem, he’s had training to learn to tune out things like that; but what keeps distracting him is how often he hears Nick speaking to him. Because when Jamie hears that? Nick’s mouth isn’t moving. He’ll be on the other side of the set, sipping on a drink, when Jamie will hear Nick saying his name. Sometimes it’s a full sentence; like ‘oh my god, Jamie needs to try this lasagne!’, or more often, a pervading sense of concern. 

Jamie’s not sure if the nascent mental bond is actually something Nick wants, or if he’s just the sort of Guide that worries about any unattached Sentinel. Which is why he hasn’t tried to respond along the new mental link yet. Just because Nick managed to enter his spirit vision and talk him into waking up doesn’t mean that the man wants to be _Jamie’s_ Guide. They’re co-workers, if Jamie’s misreading Nick’s concern, then it’ll be awkward for the both of them. He just has to hang on until they’ve finished filming the second season finale, and that should only take a few days more, since Jamie’s only got two scenes left. 

The time goes by in a blur. The director calls wrap, and Jamie’s left blinking and disorientated as he realises that there’s nothing left to hold him back. He doesn’t have a contract for season three; Red Hood might not even return, despite the unusual turn the character’s relationship took with Nightwing. He’s sure there’ll be backlash from the Kara/Nightwing shippers, but as far as Jamie’s concerned, that’s not his problem. So, he has no excuses for not asking Nick to be his Guide anymore. 

_“Nick...”_ Jamie says quietly along the mental bond, he takes a steadying breath and tries again. _”Nick...”_

 _“Jamie!”_ Nick responds almost immediately. _“I was wondering if you were going to... Well, never mind, you have now.”_

 _“Wanted to get filming out of the way.”_ Jamie mentally shrugs. _“So... Uh, you wanna do this thing?”_

 _“This thing? You mean officially become a Sentinel/Guide Pairing?”_ Nick says, amusement singing over the bond.

 _“Yeah.”_ Jamie pushes down the nervousness, waiting for Nick’s response.

 _“We aren’t already? But yes, just so there’s no doubt, I would love to be your Guide, and I want you to be my Sentinel.”_ Nick replies.

 _“Great!”_ Jamie pauses, wincing as he realise how much of his relief and happiness just got sent across the bond in that one word. _“I mean, that’s... No, it’s great.”_

_“Our spirit animals certainly thought so.”_ Nick says, and Jamie can _feel_ him grinning. _“Why don’t you come to my trailer? We can talk about exactly what we want from this bond.”_

 _“Sure, I’ll be right over.”_ Jamie nods, before realising that Nick can’t see him.

The walk to Nick’s trailer gives him time to calm his racing heart. He’s got to prepare himself for the possibility that Nick only wants a platonic bond. Jamie will accept it if that’s the case, but it’ll still mean a minor heartbreak for him. And on the flip side, he’s got to prepare himself for the chance that Nick wants a full romantic bond. It’d be a years-long dream fulfilled for Jamie if he does, and as much as he wants it, it’s just as daunting as a platonic bond will be.

“Hey!” Nick says, opening his trailer door and hanging out of the doorframe with a smile. “Glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, the walk over the lot was so arduous. I’m amazed I made it.” Jamie says dryly, his lips turning up in a smile in return.

“Come on in. Excuse the mess.” Nick disappears inside the trailer, and Jamie takes a second to focus, letting all his senses dull until it’s just him, standing at the door.

Two steps up later, Jamie’s inside and staring at the mess of clothes and towels that cover all the seats in the trailer. “Wow. OK, not the worst I’ve seen, but damn.”

“Tim’s is worse! Which is not exactly a high bar, I know...” Nick blushes, shoving a pile of what Jamie hopes is clean clothes to the floor. “Take a seat.”

“So, we’re official, we’re gonna get registered, and people will know we’re together.” Jamie says, sitting down and looking over at Nick, who nods and smiles. 

“Yep! I can’t wait.” Nick’s smile grows, and Jamie can feel the flutter of happiness and relief over the bond. “But we need to lay out exactly what that means to us. Are we platonic? Romantic? I want us both going into this knowing where we stand. I’ve seen too many Guides and Sentinels mess up their relationships because they weren’t clear with each other. Not that I think we’ll mess anything up, but well. Better to be sure.”

“Yeah, totally.” Jamie nods, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch Nick. “OK, so I’ll go first and then we can... I don’t know, whatever.”

“Sure!” Nick grins, taking the seat next to Jamie. This close he can feel his body heat, and Jamie closes his eyes for the briefest moment.

“I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with.” Jamie starts, clenching his fists on his thighs, looking Nick in the eyes. “But I want... I want a romantic bond, if that’s something you think you could do.”

“God yes, I can totally do that!” Nick blurts out, eyes widening and a flush on his face. “I mean, that’s what I want too. I like you a lot. I really want to try.”

“Seriously?” Jamie blinks, surprised. He’d half convinced himself Nick wouldn’t want it too.

“You’re exactly my type.” Nick shrugs, laying a hand on Jamie’s clenched fist. The touch is electric, and at any other time, Jamie’s pretty sure he’d be zoning out over it; but right now, he’s staring into Nick’s eyes instead. 

“Uh... Full confession, but I’ve had a crush on you since I was at the Academy.” Jamie says, breath rushing out at the admission. He unclenches his hand and interlaces their fingers together.

“Oh wow. So, no pressure to live up to the fantasies or anything?” Nick laughs, slightly nervously.

“I know reality’s going to be better.” Jamie grins, leaning in close to Nick. “Don’t you?” His breath caresses Nick’s cheek, and their lips barely graze at first, and then something _breaks_. Their lips fully meet, and Jamie can honestly say that he’s never felt so alive as he does right now.

Nick breaks the kiss, breathing as heavily as Jamie is, and smiling widely. “That was definitely better.” 

***

_Gotham City Garage:_

“What does it mean?” Nightwing says, running his fingers over the lines of Red’s tattoo. Red turns to look at him from over his shoulder, t-shirt in his hands and ready to be pulled on.

“What does your tattoo mean?” Red says with a single raised eyebrow. Nightwing sits up in the bed staring down at his chest. All of Ivy’s tattoos have meanings to the wearers.

“I asked first.” Nightwing grins, twisting on the bed until he’s sitting next to Red with a mischievous grin on his face. “Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.” 

“Yours is that first moment of driving your hog through the Freescape, finally free of the Garden and the Bat.” Red says dryly, unfazed by Nightwing’s surprise. “No, no one told me. I just know _you_.”

“I... Yeah, that’s exactly it.” Nightwing says, slightly awed, and definitely impressed by Red’s uncannily accurate observation. “Me busting free.”

“Mine’s got a backstory that’s probably just as complicated as yours.” Red says, pausing to gauge just how interested Nightwing really is.

“I want to hear it.” Nightwing leans into Red’s side, running his fingers over the lines of the tattoo. Which is easy to do, since the main bulk of the tattoo is pure linework, with only the outer edges given any shading.

“OK, fine, but no saying you’re bored of the story.” Red warns, giving Nightwing a serious look.

“I promise if I do, you can... Hmmm. Spank me?” Nightwing suggests, biting his lip and giving Red bedroom eyes.

“I could do that anyway.” Red leers, putting his weight onto Nightwing with a leer on his face.

“Promises, promises.” Nightwing says in the flirtiest tone possible before he shrugs. “Although last time I said that, we ended up fucking over my bike. Your thugs are still catcalling me about it.”

“Haha, yeah. Good times.” Red grins, eyes alight with the memory. “OK, so, the red wolf is representing RHMC... They’re my pack, for want of a better term. Not just family or subordinates.”

“Makes sense.” Nightwing nods, he traces the red lines of the wolf’s face. “And the swirling?”

“It’s kinda hard to tell from the grayscale shading, but it’s a sandstorm.” Red shrugs, and Nightwing’s fingers rise up his body with the action. “Back when I was fifteen the RHMC went on a raid to a LexCorp weapons factory. We stole a pretty decent cache of ‘em. Partly to sell on, and some to keep for ourselves.”

“Right. Business as usual, then.” Nightwing snorts softly.

“Exactly.” Red nods, lips quirking in amusement. “Until it wasn’t. A huge sandstorm swelled up outta nowhere. I got cut off from the gang, along with the weapons cache. I found shelter, and by the time the storm was over and it was safe to come out? Everyone was gone. It took me a coupla days to get back to the Red Reaches by myself.”

“Damn.” Nightwing whispers. Sandstorms out on the Freescape are no joke. There’s very little cover, and it’s almost unheard of to survive one if you get separated from your riding partners.

“Everyone thought I was dead. I came back with the cache, and they were all like ‘Fucking hell, a zombie!’” Red chuckles darkly at the memory. “Anyway, the leader tried to take them off me. I wouldn’t give them to him, so we fought. I killed him and that’s how I became the boss.”

“ _Damn_.” Nightwing breathes. “Stop being so impressive. It’s a total turn off.”

“No. No it isn’t.” Red says smugly.

“No, it isn’t. Goddamnit.” Nightwing sighs. “You know I don’t get why you need so many weapons. I mean sure, selling them on, but keeping them?”

“Dude, I literally took you on a tour of the Red Reaches?” Red says disbelief written across his face. “Did you seriously miss the underground farm full of crops in the hydroponics bays? The pigs we breed for eating, and the goats we keep for milking that eat our trash? The natural clean water supply from the well that we’ve hooked up to a heater for hot showers? The fact we’re basically totally self sufficient, apart from bikes, gas and machinery?”

“No! Of course I saw it.” Nightwing says, he really hadn’t been paying attention in the underground caves. He’s been too busy looking at what was worth stealing, or staring at Red’s arms and shoulders.

“You think that LexCorp wouldn’t be stealing that for the factories and farms for the Garden? Or the League for that matter?” Red says with exasperation. “We gotta protect what we got.”

“Of course!” Nightwing flushes in embarrassment, running his hand through his hair to cover it up. “Sorry, that was a dumbass question in retrospect.”

“Yeah, and you only get one of those per fuck session.” Red grins teasingly, and Nightwing rolls his eyes. “For as long as you’re here.”

“Thanks for telling me the story. Even though I’m not sticking around.” Nightwing shifts away from Red, changing the subject.

“Nightie, that lie hasn’t been believable since after the first week.” Red says, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his chin. “Over three weeks ago now.”

“Uh...” Nightwing blinks, looking away as he’s caught out.

“One day you’re gonna have to admit you stay because you like it here.” Red shakes his head, finally pulling his t-shirt on over his head.

“I’m here for our deal.” Nightwing insists, pulling the sheet around his naked body like a barrier.

“What deal?” Red scoffs, slightly exasperated. “You offered, but I didn’t take you up on a _deal_. Us fucking was entirely separate from the RHMC helping out GCG.”

“You didn’t do that out of the goodness of your heart.” Nightwing narrows his eyes, a defensive tone creeping into his voice.

“Because I don’t have one?” Red snorts sarcastically. “You talked sense about taking Lex down, is all.”

“Oh.” Nightwing mutters, feeling abashed as the wind is taken out of the sails of his anger. 

“Besides, you wouldn’t have stuck around longer than a coupla days if you really thought it was just a deal.” Red points out, turning to look at Nightwing fully. He spreads his hands, as if giving him a peace offering. “You wanna be here, and I want you here.”

“I... Yeah.” Nightwing’s shoulders slump, and his head drops forward as he looks up at Red through his lashes. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” Red reaches out to rest his hand on the back of Nightwing’s neck. “You don’t gotta pretend with me, yanno? I’m not trying to tie you down. Least not yet, anyways. Just be honest ‘bout what you want, and I’ll do my best to give it to ya.”

“I want to stay. For now.” Nightwing says, leaning into Red’s body and resting his forehead on Red’s shoulder. “Can I?”

“Of course, sweetheart. For as long as you need to.” Red whispers, wrapping his arms around Nightwing and closing his eyes.

“Stop being nice. It’s weird.” Nightwing says, muffled by Red’s shoulder.

“I can be an absolute bastard later, if it makes you feel better.” Red grins, resting his cheek on Nightwing’s head and closing his eyes.

“Yes.” Nightwing laughs, curling in closer. “It will.”

~*~

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

OMG! Smut! From you! And a dual narrative! Boy, you’re really spoiling us! I’m honestly not sure which of these two stories I liked better? I mean, Jamie and Nick were adorable, they’re basically soulmates, right? But, hmmmm mmmm mmm, Red and Nightwing were so damn hot, I really can’t even! I mean the handjob scene was A+ and then Nightwing riding Red? I had to fan myself!

I loved how you wove in little details about the Sentinel verse, like the Academy and the Institute, and that Jamie and Nick were there at the same time but somehow just missed each other to bond with back then! Well, on Nick’s side at least...

And for GCG, I really liked how you swapped over the RHMC and the League’s allegiances without making it feel forced, and slotted in Nightwing and the Red Hood into the tv show! It all felt so natural, along with their amazing chemistry of course!

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Haha, IKR? Not that it’s very graphic. I’m still not too comfortable writing it. The dual narrative wasn’t that hard to do, really. Personally, I slightly lean toward Red and Nightwing over Jamie and Nick? I don’t know, I think because they’re gonna have to work through their problems. Jamie and Nick’s problem was that they weren’t together yet but they were soulmates, yes.

The powers/spirit visions are canon, but the Academy/Institute and mental bond are fanon. It was good experience to write something totally out of my wheelhouse, but I probably won’t write another like this. I based them at the Acadamy and Institute on a crush I had when I was younger.

Ah, man, GCG. I love that show. I love how the strong ladies are all front and centre and the guys are the supporting characters for once. Red Hood and Nightwing slotted into that verse so easily, I’m surprised no one else has written this au.


	4. Wingfic

Jason lands in his chair with a thump. Things have been weird out on the street lately. Dick’s been almost friendly, Drake has mostly avoided him, and even the Demon Brat has been, well not nice; but he’s had several chances to attack Jason, and he didn’t take them. Bruce has seen him on a nearby rooftop and instead of storming over and demanding he leave, he said nothing and disappeared. It’s weird. Jason’s not sure if he likes it or not. On the one hand, not having to fight with the Bats for his territory is nice; on the other it makes him think they’re plotting something.

The only thing in his life that hasn’t subtly or off-puttingly changed is his hobby of writing and posting. A fic exchange for HoodWing is running, and Jason had decided what the hell, and signed up for it. The prompt he’d received had left him scratching his head for a bit, since he doesn’t usually write high fantasy; eventually he came up with something he thought was fun. The moderators had revealed the works just last night, and he’s eager to see if his prompter likes his fill.

~*~

**Touch The Sky  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: In a world where everyone has wings, Nightwing and Red Hood are together against the odds, but happy. They take to the skies for their mating flight. 

The leap from the cliff is as easy as falling always is. The sheer joy of spreading wings to catch the air currents and soaring can’t be beaten. The blissful smile on Nightwing’s face as the wind buffets them is something Red wants to treasure forever.

Wordlessly they climb ever upward, past the clouds and small birds migrating north for the summer. Up this high, the skies are clear, a beautiful blue that fades to an almost white at the far and distant horizon. 

“Are you sure?” Red says giving one more powerful flap of his wings pushing them up to reach the optimum height. He hovers in place, reaching out his arm to offer Nightwing his hand. “Because this is your last chance to turn back.”

“Of course I’m sure. You’re not getting rid of me now.” Nightwing says, taking Red’s hand with a tight grip. His own wings stretch to their maximum reach, and he gives Red a brilliant smile, lit up by his anticipation.

His soft dark hair whips around his face, as if the very wind is as excited for their mating flight as Nightwing is. It slightly obscures Nightwing’s vision, which is exactly why Red’s hair is pulled back into a severe tail at the crown of his head. Three wing beats is enough time for them to raise their joined hands and interlink their fingers, while their free hands meet and do the same. They grip on tightly to each other. The only thing they’ll have to keep them together through the freefall is the joining of their hands. It’s exhilarating, adrenaline inducing, and daunting all at the same time.

“Ready?” Red says, his fingers clenching around Nightwing’s. He can admit he’s nervous; it’s a long way down, and tradition says couples that don’t manage to keep a grip on each other in the somersaulting freefall will fall apart before the first year of being mated is done. Red doesn’t want that. He wants to grow old with Nightwing, wants to tell their offspring, and their offsprings’ offspring for that matter, all about how successful their mating flight was.

“With you by my side? Always.” Nightwing says, eyes alight with confidence and a surety that settles the nerves in Red’s gut with startling speed.

“Let’s see if we can get all the way down with both hands.” Red grins, pulling Nightwing in that little bit closer. “Really piss off all the naysayers who said we can’t make it.”

“Definitely.” Nightwing laughs, making all the little blue feathers on his forehead quiver with delight. “I know they’re all waiting on the ground for us to fail. Let’s prove them wrong.”

“On three?” Red says as a little gust of breeze ruffles his own head feathers. Red closes his eyes and for the briefest of seconds it feels like his mother is there, resting her hand on his head and giving her blessing in the proceedings. He opens them again and Nightwing’s staring back at him, happy and excited and feeling just as at peace as Red does right now.

“On three.” Nightwing agrees. “One...” They both give one wing beat each. “Two...” They give a final wing beat, holding themselves in place high in the sky. “Three!” They fold their wings in at the same time, plummeting down from the heavens towards the earth. 

They hold each other close as they topple over and over, any words of encouragement lost to the ripping winds they drop through. Red keeps his gaze on Nightwing’s face, seeing the rising joy there as the fall further and further, their grip on each other as strong as when they were hovering.

The dive steals Red’s breath, all his attention on Nightwing. The seconds stretch into hours as they fall. Nightwing looks down, finally breaking eye contact, prompting Red to do the same. They’ve fallen further than he’d realised, but there’s still a ways to go before they’re close enough to the ground to open their wings and fly, preferably still in tandem, across the valley where the entire village has turned out to watch the result of their flight. 

The mating dive is far more dangerous than it seems at first glance. The peril of losing their grips on each other is nothing to the possibility of misjudging the fall. Death isn’t an uncommon end to the event. Not just the distance, but the timing of extending wings, and the balance of having two sets catching the wind at the same time means keeping hold of one another can be more fatal than letting go.

Red watches the earth rise up to meet them, both of Nightwing’s hands still in his. Even just one hand is considered a success, but two is good omen, and exactly what Red wants to shut up all their critics for good. Some people seem to think that the pairing of an eagle-owl winged and a swift winged avian is something to be disparaged and looked down upon. But Red and Nightwing are going to prove that’s shit.  
Nightwing clutches closer to Red as they get lower and lower; his narrow, long feathered wings might be capable of tight manoeuvres and high speed, but they’re not so great against changes in wind. 

Nightwing’s going to have to trust Red’s shorter, broader wings to take them out of the dive and back up into the air. Red’s had more practice at diving to the ground and then up again when catching prey. The difficulty this time, is of course, the fact that Nightwing’s in his arms. 

Red takes a deep breath, giving Nightwing a hard nod, and they snap their wings out in perfect synchronicity. Red takes their weight, pulling out of the dive and back up to the whoops and hollers of Nightwing and their friends. Their hands are still tightly bound up together, and they rise up, soaring as Red steers them towards the landing place. 

“Yes! We did it!” Nightwing yells, and Red grins victoriously as they slow and descend to the landing place, their wings beating in time until their feet touch the ground. 

There’s _no_ denying they did it. All of the crowd could see their hands tightly clasped. “We did it!” Red agrees breathlessly. 

“Oh Lady of the Skies! Your wings are a mess, Red!” Nightwing laughs joyously, throwing his head back and making his head feathers quiver with glee. “We’ve got to get them groomed as soon as possible.” 

“Yours aren’t exactly sleek and perfect right now, either.” Red rolls his eyes, but despite the discomfort of disordered wings, he can’t keep the smile off his face.

“Yes. We should go home and fix that. _Right now_.” Nightwing says, his eyelids dropping down to give Red a seductive look. “Come on.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Red rolls his eyes again, but drops one of Nightwing’s hands to turn away towards their nest house. They run hand in hand away from the crowd of well wishers and their friends, in a real need for privacy. 

With the door locked behind them, they drop their clothes quickly. Red spins Nightwing around in front of him, digging his fingers into the dark pin feathers, straightening them out with gentle efficiency, making them gleam with oil until the blue streak across the black feathers is easily visible. Nightwing hums, pleased with Red’s work, rolling his shoulders and flapping his wings twice before folding them.

“Your turn.” Nightwing grins, contentment and excitement coming off him in waves.

“Finally.” Red says mock seriously. “Don’t forget that one pin feather in my...”

“Right wing, yes I know. You tell me _every time_.” Nightwing says with a fond look on his face. “Turn around then.”

Red can’t stop the sigh that escapes him as Nightwing runs his fingers through his feathers, straightening out any out of place feathers, including the one in his right wing that’s never sat right since it grew in after the previous one was yanked out with force by an enemy. Nightwing runs his fingers through the grooming process over and over, well beyond what he needs to.

“I know you’re done.” Red huffs, turning to look at Nightwing and snapping his wings shut.

“Sorry. I just like grooming you. Your feathers are just so silky. And I love how they fade from brown to red at the tips.” Nightwing says, clearly not in the least bit sorry. 

“ _You_ say that every time, too.” Red grins. He shakes his head fondly. “We did it.”

“We did.” Nightwing nods, he throws his arms around Red’s neck stepping in close to rise up on his tiptoes, and place a kiss on his mouth. “We should celebrate properly.”

“We should.” Red mutters into Nightwing’s mouth, swinging him up into his arms and carrying him towards their bed. 

Breaking the kiss, Nightwing leans back in Red’s arms and gives him a mischievous look. “So, how many eggs should we have to start with?”

“Eggs!” Red stumbles, the surprise of Nightwing asking how many offspring he wants _right at this moment_ taking not only his balance but his dignity at the same time.

“Yes, eggs! I want three.” Nightwing sighs, happily, gripping onto Red’s shoulders.

“Uh... One, I guess. At first?” Red says, still feeling blindsided, but with growing joy. “I mean, _you’re_ laying them, we’ll have as many as you want.”

~*~

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

WINGFIC!

I love wingfic! Probably because it’s such wish fulfilment? Being able to fly without a machine is amazing! I actually enjoy skydiving quite a lot, and you really captured the feeling of leaping out from up high and hurtling towards the ground! I kind of wish that section had been longer, but that’s probably a go write it yourself situation, isn’t it? LOL! 

I liked how the mating dive/flight is basically a marriage, although probably less formal than our world’s? I wish I had a Red to hold on to while we fall, but that’s what fic’s for right?

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Wingfic, indeed. Thanks for reading and commenting always, Blu.

It’s on the shorter side, I know, but then leaping out of airplanes isn’t really my idea of fun? I prefer rereading Miss Austen or getting into a barfight, if I’m honest. I’m glad you liked the description though. I watched a couple of tandem skydive videos for research, but as I’ve not tandemed myself, I wasn’t sure how well it came across.

Yeah, the mating flight/dive is an informal marriage in that world. I’d love a Nightwing to banter with myself. But yeah, that’s exactly what my fic is for.


	5. Cabin/Blanket Fic

Jason’s unsettled. Yeah, that’s the word... Unsettled. The last two weeks have been _unsettling_. Dick’s been upping the ante from almost friendly to outright friendly, suggesting that they grab coffee at the nearest twenty-four hour cafe, or an ice-cream from a nearby parlour. Jason refuses each time, but then Dick counter offers with the idea of bringing the coffee or ice-cream up to a rooftop and hanging out there for a while.

If Dick’s trying to make him lower his guard so the Bats can arrest him or throw him in Arkham, then he’s playing the long game; because he’s not been anything but relaxed and casual every time they’ve hung out together. It’s unsettling. It’s nice. It’s unsettlingly _nice_. He’s never really had the chance to get to know Dick like this before. When he was Robin, Dick was too busy with the Titans, and not being around Bruce to give Jason time and energy. Then Jason was dead, and resurrecting with a different method to the mission. 

But it means that Jason has all the things he never said to Dick on his mind. Since he’s not ready to say them to Dick, he’ll have to write them out in his fiction. After all, that’s what it’s for.

~*~

**Your Warm Embrace  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: Stranded in a remote Alaskan cabin, with temperatures plummeting drastically; how will Nightwing and Red Hood survive not just the night, but each other?

The door to the cabin gives way, swinging open violently to slam against the log wall. Snow blows in on the wind surrounding the two figures almost falling through the opening. They stumble inside; the taller one dropping the other to the floor after a few feet, turning to shut the door against the wind. It closes firmly, blocking out the gusts of frigid air. The cabin’s still freezing, but it’s marginally more tolerable. It’s just as dark inside the cabin as it is outside, but Red’s thankful to be out of that wind.

The night vision in his helmet comes in handy, Red scans the place for a light source and finds three lamps hanging up over the counter along one wall. They’re battery run, and Red switches them on, bringing some much needed light to tiny cabin. With the lights on, Red takes off his helmet and resists the urge to shiver as the cold air hits his ears and nose. 

“There’s a wood burner here.” Nightwing says, teeth chattering together as his body shivers trying to keep itself warm.

“Any wood inside it?” Red says, letting the question distract Nightwing long enough for Red to get a better look at the hero, still kneeling on the floor.

“Yes.” Nightwing says as another shiver goes through him. “And a pile next to it. Should help warm us up until help comes.”

“Get your ass on the bed, and let me light it. You’re as likely to set the cabin on fire as the burner.” Red moves over to the burner, and digs out a lighter from the internal pocket of his jacket. Nightwing huffs, but doesn’t argue, and if that doesn’t set off a few alarm bells, nothing will. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible rescuer?” Nightwing drags himself to his feet and moves slowly towards the single bed taking up the back quarter of the cabin.

“There’s usually too much screaming to work out the individual words.” Red shrugs, lighting the kindling helpfully mixed in with the wood logs already in the burner. “OK, once that starts kicking out some heat we’ll be toasty.”

“You know, I’m still not convinced that you didn’t plan this all to get intel out of me.” Nightwing throws what Red assumes is meant to be a suspicious look at him, but the domino mask somehow still attached to his face ruins the attempt.

“You think I’d set up a kidnapping, follow you, rescue you, and then traipse us out into a blizzard on the small off-chance of finding shelter just to get information from you?” Red says incredulously.

“Maybe. I don’t know how your mind works!” Nightwing throws his hands up in the air.

“Why would I do that when there are plenty of nice warehouses in Gotham?” Red shakes his head. “Less time, money and effort spent on you the better.”

“Well, it’s that, or this is some nice romantic getaway.” Nightwing says with a smirk, trying to get a reaction out of him, but fuck if Red is going to give him the satisfaction.

“A remote cabin in a blizzard is your idea of a romantic getaway? I pity your dates.” Red rolls his eyes, peeling off his gloves and holding them over the fire to trying to warm them up first.

“Rude.” Nightwing says, his shivering hindering his attempts of getting his gloves and boots off. “Actually, my idea of a romantic getaway is parachuting from a plane to a tropical island for a week.” 

“I’d say ‘good to know’ but I honestly don’t care.” Red rolls his neck, feeling it crack satisfyingly. “I’m gonna see if there’s any food or a first aid kit. You think you can avoid dying if I look away for two seconds?”

“I’m not going to die even if you leave the cabin forever.” Nightwing says before sighing heavily with aggravation. “My ankle is fucked up, nothing else.”

Red moves back to the counter, looking through the cupboards with one of the lanterns. They’re full of tinned goods; obviously someone comes through regularly to restock the place, and the dates on all of them are at least months, if not years in advance.

The wood burner is heating the place up nicely, because Red can feel the heat on the back of his jacket as he looks through the cupboard for a first aid kit. He’s pretty sure that Nightwing’s ankle is either dislocated or strained, so giving that some support until Red’s henches can get there to pick them up once the storm passes, is the next priority since shelter and food are covered. The next cupboard he opens reveals a well stocked first aid kit that even has an ankle support that should work for Nightwing’s ankle.

“You want some food? There’s enough here to last us both a week.” Red turns to look over his shoulder. Nightwing’s laying back on the bed, bare feet hanging over the edge to warm his toes close to the wood burner. He’s resting back on his elbows, head hanging backwards. For a split second all Red can think of is how much be wants to drop everything and join him on the bed, pinning him down until Nightwing’s warm and safe. He forces the thought away, staring at the can in his hand instead.

“I could eat.” Nightwing says after a pause. “Any bandages? Or a splint?”

“Yeah, one of those soft ankle brace things.” Red finds a can opener and opens two of the cans, picking them, two spoons, and the ankle brace up, before walking the few feet over to the wood burner. He sets the two cans down and turns to the bed. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Nightwing nods, eyes narrowed as the takes the brace and starts pulling it over his toes. He clearly still suspicious, but Red’s barely warmed up, hungry, and tired, and he can’t be bothered to start a fight. 

“Yeah, whatever. Food’s soup with meatballs or dumplings or something.” Red stares at the flickering flames of the wood burner, trying to ignore Nightwing’s body heat radiating next to him, and the soft sound of his breaths against the thudding wind outside. It’s far warmer here on the bed than on the other side of the cabin, and Red slides his jacket off to let the heat in.

“Are you sure you’re not behind all this?” Nightwing says, sitting up once more. His shoulder knocks into Red’s, making Red’s fingers twitch with the urge to steady him.

“For the last time, no, I’m not.” Red says, keeping his gaze firmly on the flames.

“Because if you aren’t, you’re being weirdly nice.” Nightwing leans forward resting his elbows on his knees. “And not just for a crime lord.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Red clenches his jaw. It had been a stupid spur of the moment decision to try and rescue Nightwing from his abductors, and despite how much trouble they’re in, Red can’t really bring himself to regret it.

“You. I mean, you jumped onto the helicopter as we were flying away without a second thought!” Nightwing says, his mask all scrunched up with puzzlement on his face. “I wake up, and you’re kicking bad guy butt, and then you hauled my half-unconscious body through a blizzard to find shelter. And now you’re feeding me! It’s weird.”

“Look, just because I’m a crime lord, that doesn’t mean I was gonna just stand idly by while you got yourself kidnapped. I wouldn’t for a random civilian, and heroes are no different.” Red says, meaning it. But the truth is, he _was_ a little more driven because it was Nightwing, and no one else. “OK, I admit I didn’t foresee us getting transported all the way out here to wherever the fuck in Alaska we are, but shit happens.”

“No kidding.” Nightwing snorts, amused. “I don’t even know why they took me, let alone across the country.”

“And it wasn’t like I could leave you behind to be unmasked, or experimented on? I mean I got dragged along when the helicopter fucking teleported to that base.” Red shrugs, sounding as exasperated as he feels. “We were incredibly lucky to find a hunting trail cabin. And feeding you doesn’t count, because it’s putting a can on a stove! It’s not like I’m hand feeding you... I don’t fucking know, canapés or something.”

“Good. I don’t like canapés, they’re too small. Crab-stuffed mushrooms, though? Those are my jam.” Nightwing says, leaning over to look at said cans, heating on the top of the wood burner. “Mmm, the soup smells good...”

Red hands Nightwing a spoon, reaching out with his own to take a sip of the soup to see if it’s ready. Hot but not scalding, and with that single taste Red realises he’s starving. “Food’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Nightwing picks up his can and starts spooning it into his mouth, after a few mouthfuls he speaks again. “And thanks for saving me. Still not _entirely_ convinced you had nothing to do with it. But... Thank you.”

Red sighs, and shovels another spoonful of vegetable soup into his mouth to stop himself from arguing. His spoon hits the bottom of the can before he feels ready to say anything. “You’re welcome.”

“You know, considering everything? I’ve been on worse dates than this.” Nightwing chuckles, spinning his spoon around on his fingers.

“This isn’t a date. And it’s still not a romantic getaway either.” Red huffs, finishing off his soup with a last spoonful. It wasn’t as filling as his usual meals, but he doesn’t feel like getting up to grab another tin.

“It could be a date, if you wanted. I mean, it’s kind of romantic? Cuddling up together by the fire, sharing a meal... You don’t think that’s romantic?” Nightwing tilts his head at Red. His dark hair is getting long and in need of a cut because as he tilts his head it brushes on his shoulder. “Or is it because it’s me, and not a pretty lady?”

“Fishing for compliments, now are we? We both know you’re prettier than most of the people I know. Also you’d date someone you think could’ve kidnapped you?” Red shakes his head in disbelief. As if Nightwing’s offering for this to be a _date_. He must think Red was born yesterday. “No wonder you’ve got a harem of middle-aged stalkers.”

“I’ve what?” Nightwing says, and the whiteout lenses on his mask blink repeatedly. 

“You’re constantly surrounded by Bats, Titans, and harem of middle-aged stalkers.” Red puts his empty can on the ground and leans back on his hands. The bed creaks a little, but not alarmingly. “Which is enough to scare anyone off.”

“Bats, Titans, and harem of middle-aged stalkers.” Nightwing repeats, staring at Red incredulously.

“Oh my.” Red grins, and Nightwing snorts at the joke despite himself. “Not that I’ve got any knowledge which of them are lions, tigers or bears. And I want to keep it that way.”

“You mean you don’t have a burning desire to discover if Batman’s furry under the batsuit?” Nightwing says, the same playful smile on his face now that he has when he’s facing down a whole gang of thugs. The fact that Red’s stomach is flipping uncomfortably is definitely not to do with that smile, and totally because he just ganneted an entire can of soup in barely two minutes. Totally.

“I already know he’s a furry! He dresses up as goddamn bat, and has rooftop make-outs with Catwoman! I really don’t need, or want to know more, fuck you very much.” Red says throwing his hands up in despair. “The one that really worries me is the Dread Pirate Deathstroke. What is with those boots? I mean, seriously?”

Nightwing’s snort turns into full blown giggles at the exasperation in Red’s voice. “At least one of my ‘harem of middle-aged stalkers’ is a bear, and another is actually called Tiger. I have no explanation for Deathstroke’s boots, and if I end up calling him Dread Pirate to his face, I’m telling him you said it first. ”

“You’re making that shit up.” Red says, feeling an answering smile tugging at his own mouth. “If you call him that, and he tells you about the boots, I want to know the answer before I get into a shoot out with him.” 

“No! Really. Oh my god, I can never tell the Titans you called those guys that. The name will catch on so fast.” Nightwing tries to stifle his giggles by putting his hand over his mouth.

“Oh no, what a shame.” Red says flatly, somehow manage to keep a straight face. “I now regret not calling them ‘creepy stalkers’.”

Nightwing lets his hand drop, and he bites his lip. “I can’t even argue that they aren’t creepy! Well, Tiger isn’t, but the rest? Questionable.”

“ _You_ need to find yourself a nice non-creepy boy or girl who’ll fend them off for you.” Red snorts, giving Nightwing a grin.

“I can do that myself.” Nightwing protests, but there’s no heat in it.

“Yes. You have clearly been doing a stellar job at that so far. Clearly.” Red points out sardonically.

“Rude! ...But annoyingly accurate.” Nightwing sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “God, I’m tired. Why is there only one bed here?” The last sentence comes out with a definite whine in his voice.

“Because it’s an emergency cabin for hunters?” Red says looking around the room. Apart from the counter, cupboards, wood burner, and bed, the only thing in the cabin is a long row of coat hooks and what is probably a compostable toilet inside what looks like a large closet. “It’s not big on the creature comforts, it’s for survival.”

“I want to sleep.” Nightwing says, fighting off a yawn. “Are we going to take it in turns to get some rest, or are you secure enough in your masculinity that you’re happy to share the bed?”

“You think there’s room for the both of us on this thing?” Red says, patting the bed. “I mean, it’ll be a squeeze to say the least. You might be pretty, ‘Wing, but you’re not exactly...”

“Not exactly?” Nightwing says, raising an eyebrow. Or at least Red thinks he does, the mask kind of cramps the motion.

“Short or thin.” Red says, shrugging. Because it’s true. Nightwing might be shorter than him, and less thick throughout the body, but then Red’s built like a linebacker.

“Nice save.” Nightwing grins. “I think if we, uh, arrange ourselves well it’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words.” Red mutters. He toes his boots off and shuffles back until he’s lying on the bed, making a point to show off how much room he’ll take up. Nightwing grins at the challenge, and before Red can say anything else, he slithers up the side of the bed, fitting himself to Red’s side and into the free spaces as if he has no bones, or like a cat that can bend any which way. Nightwing drags the heavy quilted blanket over both of them, and rests his head on Red’s shoulder, seeming to slip into sleep within seconds.

Red has the feeling it’s going to take him far longer to fall asleep, preparing himself to spend the long hours feeling ‘Wing’s body pressed on his. He’s out for the count in less than ten minutes.

***

Red wakes feeling warm and cosy, pressed up against something firm yet giving. It takes his conscious brain far too long to realise that he’s got Nightwing trapped tight in his arms. The sensation is not only comforting; if it was just that, Red could deal with it easily, rationalise it away as having a warm, safe presence in his bed. No, it’s not just comfort. It couldn’t be when Nightwing’s ass is pressed up so firmly on his crotch. (And isn’t it telling that he didn’t wake up when Nightwing turned over onto his other side? Even more telling is that Red rolled over to follow him.)

He must make some kind of sound, because Nightwing chooses that moment to roll his hips backward. Red lets go of him automatically, assuming that Nightwing’s trying to get away.

“Oh, don’t stop.” Nightwing says, voice thick with sleepy lust. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Uh...” Red says intelligently. “You do realise it’s _me_ behind you, right?”

“Mmm, Red, I want you to pin me to the bed.” Nightwing groans, rolling his hips again. Red’s so tempted; Nightwing’s practically begging him to fuck him and yet, Red’s not entirely sure that _Nightwing’s_ awake.

“Aren’t I supposed to buy you dinner first? And no, heating up soup last night doesn’t count.” Red says, clenching his hands into fists. He wants nothing more than to put his hands on ‘Wing, move into the place that Red wants him to be in.

“How can you be that big and built, and so cute at the same time?” Nightwing mutters, twisting in Red’s arms until they’re face to face. “I’m horny, you’re willing, lets rock this bed.”

“Ah, yes. Romance truly is dead.” Red says, staring up at the cabin roof, trying to avoid looking Nightwing in the face. Well, mask. “Also, it’s weird you propositioning me while I can’t see your eyes.”

“Oh. Well, I can fix that.” Nightwing says, pushing at Red’s shoulder until he’s on his back and then climbing into his lap. He reaches up and taps something on his mask, the lenses drop down into the domino and Red can see his eyes – bright blue and startling against the tan of his skin and the black of the mask.

“You really did that, huh.” Red mutters, pushing up into a sitting position. “Pretty eyes, I can see why you keep ‘em covered.” 

Nightwing grins. “You know a lot of people say that to me, but they’re not usually talking about my eyes.” He reaches behind him and flicks something open because the neck of his suit unpeels, sliding off his shoulders. Nightwing pulls it down to his hips, showing off acres of golden skin and scars, old and new.

“Do they at least feed you before they say that?” Red moves his hands to the bare skin of ‘Wing’s hips.

“I’m starting to think you’ve got an obsession with feeding me...” ‘Wing grins, rising off his knees to push his suit down further. Then he reaches down to unzip Red’s pants, smiling with delight when he pushes his hand down underneath Red’s cup. “Not that I’d have any complaints about you feeding me _this_...”

“That was fucking terrible. Stop, I’ve changed my mind.” Red groans, before groaning again when ‘Wing closes his hand around his cock and gives it a few experimental strokes.

“If you say so.” ‘Wing smirks, pulling his hand away and leaning back until he’s sitting in Red’s lap. He unfolds his legs from under him, sliding his suit down his legs and drops it to the floor, resting his legs on Red’s shoulders. “What should I do instead?”

“Behave.” Red raises an eyebrow and idly slaps at the front of ‘Wing’s thigh. “Or ride me, but no terrible flirting.”

“Make me.” ‘Wing smirks again, tipping his chin up in a challenge. Red grabs his hips, pulling him in closer, and Nightwing gasps in surprise, his ankles hooking behind Red’s neck for balance. “Oh, _yes_!”

“You gonna take it?” Red says, shifting one hand from Nightwing’s hips to his back, holding him close enough to kiss. “Because I can definitely bounce you on me, but I get the feeling you like to ride.”

“Both!” Nightwing says breathily, eyes wide as the tip of Red’s cock nudges his hole. He wraps his arms around Red’s shoulders, and lets his mouth drop open as he sinks down on it.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Red whispers, holding Nightwing close. Nightwing tenses his legs, pulling himself up and whines when Red pushes him back down, over and over again, hitting a spot inside him that makes Nightwing’s toes curl. 

Nightwing rides harder and faster the closer he gets to orgasm, desperately kissing Red as if his life depends on it. The feeling of being deep inside him is overwhelming, and Red tries to burn this moment in to his memories. It’s tight and hot and electric sweet, and Red drives up into him roughly. Nightwing screams, the evidence of his pleasure shooting out to hit Red in the chest. 

“Oh fuck, I really needed that.” Nightwing moans, going limp in Red’s arms. 

“Hold on, I’m not done yet.” Red grunts, bouncing Nightwing’s body on his cock. Nightwing forces his lax arms to tighten around Red’s shoulders.

“Come in me. I want it.” Nightwing moans in Red’s ear, and those words, whether he means them or not, tip Red over into his own orgasm, coming deep inside Nightwing. They fall back onto the bed, breathing hard. 

“Fuck...” Red sighs. “That was better than I ever imagined.”

“Mmm. Yes.” Nightwing kisses Red’s cheek. “Definitely an experience to be repeated.”

The sound of a helicopter’s blades can be heard in the distance, and Red gets up and pulls his helmet on, seeing an alert from his men. “That’s our ride out of here. Maybe we can pick this up again when we’re back in Gotham?”

“Hell, yes! I’ll be waiting.” Nightwing promises with a smile, reaching for his suit.

~*~

 **ElctrcBluEskrima:**  
Woah, Nightwing, the guy jumped on a helicopter to rescue you! How is _that_ not romantic? I’d love for that to happen to me! Also that smut? Was so good! I got a little heated reading it, not going to lie! XD

And in other news, I finally took your advice and talked to my crush! It went really well! I didn’t quite get up the nerve to ask him out, since I’m taking it slow, but at least I know he’s single now! Have you talked to yours yet?

 **theHoodedGargoyle:**  
I guess Nightwing doesn’t like playing damsel for anyone? I suppose it depends on the attitude of his rescuer. It feels weird to say I’m glad the smut worked for you... But, I’m glad the smut worked for you.

I did, but it didn’t go all that well. Apparently he’s seeing someone new, so I guess I missed my chance. At least he hasn’t realised that I have feelings for him. Which fucking sucks for me, but I’ve got writing to help me deal with it.


	6. Werewolves & Vampires

This new friendship with Dick is fragile. Too fragile to cope with the reveal of Jason’s less-than-platonic feelings for Dick. So Jason’s been throwing himself into writing, developing their relationship how he wishes it could. He’s been adding more sex in, too. It might just be wish fulfilment, even though most people seem to like the added sex judging by the hit count; but it’s cathartic for Jason. It means he won’t do something stupid like kiss Dick, when all he seems to want is a second chance to give Jason the friendship he offered when Jason was Robin. 

Well, that, and the fact that if he’s going to be haunted by the thought of just how fucking bendy Dick can be; usually just as he’s about to sleep or taking some ‘me time’, then he might as well get some story material from it. And he has. Jason never realised how many dirty fantasies about Dick were hanging about in his subconscious, just waiting for the opportunity to come out from where they were lurking, and play themselves out across his eyelids in glorious technicolour and stereophonic sound. 

So he writes them out in excruciating detail. Because he fucking well can.

~*~

**Bite Me Bloody  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: The Vampires and the Werewolves have been allied against the Fae for as long as anyone can remember. When Nightwing, the heir to the vampire clan gets a new werewolf bodyguard, Red, it’s the perfect time to root out the Fae spy causing havoc. 

**120/18:**

The hard flagstone floor of the audience hall of the Court of Vampires digs into Red’s knees painfully. But it’s nothing to the hard bar inside the muzzle forcing his lips back, or the way his arms are forced up over a heavy, solid metal bar, and tied outstretched. The shock collar around his throat stops him from transforming; but the true humiliation is the leash attached to it, currently held by one of the Vampires’ enforcers. 

The fact that Red’s here because his own pack sold him out is something he can’t focus on now. He’s pretty sure that according to the laws the Vampires enacted once the war with the Fae began, that he’s either dead, sold off as a slave, or about to be sent back to the iron mines, this time with no hope of escape. Considering the Weres and the Vampires are meant to be allies, the fact that the Weres do all the work, fighting and dying while the Vampires live in luxury; the Vampires give no mercy to any rogue were.

In the chill of the hall, Red’s wet jeans are even more uncomfortable, and given that they stripped him of all other clothing, Red’s pretty sure that he’ll be sentenced to death. He doesn’t listen as they read out his ‘crime’; defending himself from a hungry vampire is now considered an assault, and Red’s pack had turned him over without a thought. The vampire on the dais reads out a frankly ludicrous list of things Red hasn’t done, and the King of the Vampires waves him away before he’s finished. Red waits for the signal, but it doesn’t come. 

Instead, the prince is standing up, walking down the dais to study Red. Prince Nightwing is clad in a skintight bodysuit of latex and mesh, a cape that drapes all the way to the floor held on to his body by three loops down the arms. It gives off the impression of wings, and Red wonders if the name came after the sparkly black cape or before it. The prince walks all around him, running chill fingers over Red’s arms and shoulders, before coming around to stand in front of him. Red’s greeted with the view of pert buttocks right in front of his face; if he didn’t have a muzzle over his face he’d bite down on one of them; giving the vampire a paralysing dose of werewolf spit.

“Father, I want this one.” Nightwing announces loudly, one hand held out imperiously to the bastard holding his leash.

“What possible use could you have for him?” The King Bat asks, one eyebrow raised despite his apparent boredom.

“Oh, I’m sure I can find _something_ for him to do...” Nightwing says, and Red can’t see his face, but he’s sure the bastard is leering lasciviously. 

“Well, if you really want him...” The King Bat sighs, waving his permission with one hand. “Take him.”

“Thank you, Father.” Nightwing gives a small bow, taking the leash and the remote control to the shock collar from the enforcer currently in charge of Red. He walks off with it in hand, giving Red no time to get to his feet. He stumbles after him, barely managing to keep from smashing his face into the floor only because of his speed. 

The walk through the corridors of the Vampires’ castle is silent, past more guards that Red’s ever seen, even at the headquarters of the iron mines. Eventually they reach a set of doors, and Nightwing whisks them through. The heavy wood doors shut behind him and lock with a finality that spells doom for Red. Nightwing turns up the lights, to an almost painful intensity after the soft glow in the corridors. 

“Let’s get a better look at you.” Nightwing says, turning towards Red with both hands extended up to his face. “Don’t try biting me. I’m faster than you, and I have the remote to your collar.” As if Red could forget that. Nightwing removes his muzzle, dropping it onto a nearby table, and Red works his jaw, trying to get some feeling back into his lips.

“If you think I’m going to thank you...” Red snarls, and Nightwing holds up the remote. Red snaps his mouth shut.

“I’m going to let your arms down now.” Nightwing says lightly, as if Red hadn’t spoken at all. The prince is as much of an idiot as his reputation makes him out to be. He undoes Red’s wrists, and steps away as Red brings his arms down and rubs feeling into his wrists with his hands. “Yes, I think you’ll do nicely.”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed.” Red growls, a deep rumble in his chest.

“What? Oh no.” Nightwing says, waving away the suggestion, his bright blue eyes alight with mischief under the fall of long dark hair. “That was just a performance for the court. I’m in no need of an unwilling lover. I have people throwing themselves at me daily for that.”

Red stares at the prince, watching as he flounces around his room doing... Something. “The fuck?” He mutters. What’s he here for then?

“What I need is a bodyguard. Someone loyal.” Nightwing says, turning back to Red. “There’s a Fae spy at court, and I’ve been tasked with finding him.”

“You?” Red snorts, his gaze flicking up and down Nightwing’s body. He’s dressed like someone’s goth wet dream, in high heels, the body suit and that drapey, light cape. 

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Nightwing says with a sunny smile, completely at odds with his attire. “Sometimes playing the vapid party boy can be surprisingly useful.”

“So, you want me to be your bodyguard while you investigate spies.” Red says flatly. “And I’m gonna agree to this because?”

“I did just save your life.” Nightwing shrugs. “And with that performance earlier, no one’s going to take you as a serious threat. You’ll be ignored by everyone. Which is perfect for information gathering.”

“Right.” Red stares at Nightwing, trying to calculate if he really does have time to rip the guy’s throat out before the shock collar kills him.

“If you need more convincing than that...” Nightwing says, narrowing those bright blue eyes. “Here.” He holds out the remote to the shock collar, and drops it into Red’s hand.

“Are you crazy?” Red says, staring at the remote. Nightwing’s basically giving him his freedom with this.

“I told you, I need a _loyal_ bodyguard. Someone I can trust with my life.” Nightwing shrugs. “You’ll never be loyal if I’m holding that over you. So, I’ll trust you first.”

“I could leave. I could run.” Red points out, slipping the remote into the still wet pocket of his jeans.

“But where would you go? You’re a wanted man, Red. There’s no where you can hide that we won’t find you.” Nightwing shrugs, flouncing over to a chaise longue and throwing himself down dramatically. “Why not work for me instead? Help end this war.”

Red knows the prince is right. He’ll be hunted down like a dog and killed if he tries to run now. He’s got no options, and the prince is offering him something like a decent life. “Fine, but I’m not sleeping in your bed. And by the way? Pretty sure your spy is that guy that brought me in.” Red says, thinking of the weird Fae tang to the guy’s smell. It wasn’t like other vampires he’s met. “He stinks of their flowers.”

“Raptor? No, it isn’t him, Puppy.” Nightwing dismisses him. “I trust him.”

***

**121/19:**

Red wakes up and stretches, scratching at his bare belly. After a quick shower and shave, having swapped his sweatpants for jeans and a t-shirt, he walks over to the window, watching the sun set. After the last sliver of the star has slipped below the horizon, he hears Nightwing stir. He wanders over to the huge bed that Nightwing ‘sleeps’ in, sitting on the side. He picks up his now entirely inoperative, and purely there for show shock collar, clipping it around his neck. The remote, now without batteries, hangs on a belt that Nightwing’s taken to wearing lately.

Nightwing sits up without opening his eyes, and Red waits for his ‘owner’ to fully wake. It takes longer than usual, but then Nightwing fed a lot last night.

“Evening, Puppy!” Nightwing says far too cheerful for this time of night.

“’Wing. Finally getting your lazy carcass out of bed, I see.” Red smirks, showing off his teeth in the wolfiest smile.

“Rude.” Nightwing snorts, amused. He stretches, and Red realises that under the sheet, Nightwing is entirely naked. “This is early for me, and you know it... Mmm, what should I wear tonight?”

“Clothes. That fully cover you. If only for the shocking novelty.” Red nods, keeping his face blank. Nightwing throws his head back in laughter, his sheet slipping further down his body.

“That would shock everyone, wouldn’t it?” Nightwing smiles widely, his eyes still sparking with amusement. “Well, I better see what I have in the closet.” He turns and crawls out of bed, forcing Red to turn away or have an extremely up close and personal view of his most private parts. Once Nightwing’s off the bed and walking, he can’t resist the quickest of glances. He’s rewarded with the sight of Nightwing crossing his ankles and going up on tiptoe to stretch as high as he can.

“The same thing you had yesterday, probably.” Red mutters under his breath, and if ‘Wing hears him, he gives no sign.

“Tonight feels like a breathable night.” ‘Wing announces loudly, selecting a pair of heels to wear later.

“Does it? Does it really, though?” Red says as Nightwing holds up a sheer halter-necked, low backed, black mesh bodysuit. The only thing stopping everything from being on show is a pair of attached black bikini briefs.

“Yes. It does.” ‘Wing says flippantly, bending over to slide his legs into the bodysuit. Red blinks as that ass comes into focus once more, and looks away. There are a lot of great things about working for the Prince of the Vampires; the frequent nudity is both one of them and one of the worst things at the same time.

“You know you can knock it off, right?” Red sighs, staring at his hands, noticing his claws could do with a trim.

“Knock what off?” Nightwing says, a slight frown marring his otherwise perfect features.

“The performance.” Red says, rolling his head around to hear his neck crack. “The vapid party boy act. You don’t need to keep it up in front of me. Honestly, it kinda pisses me off.”

“...I’d say I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do.” Nightwing sighs heavily. “It’s easier not to let the mask slip if it’s always on, I suppose. But thank you for the suggestion.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” Red says, turning to look at Nightwing’s smirk. “Which is the way you want it, I guess?”

“Right! My Puppy, always so smart! Keep up the good work, won’t you?” ‘Wing smiles brightly at him, and Red snarls back, only making him grin wider.

Nightwing pulls the body suit up to his neck, fastening it with deft hands. His high heels, also black, naturally, go on next. Red shoves his feet into his own bashed up sneakers, picking up his hated leash as Nightwing smears blue glitter over his eyelids before slipping on his cape. Hanging from three loops at shoulder, elbow and wrist, and draping low at the back to show off all that perfect skin, Nightwing’s cape is something that he wears whenever he leaves his rooms. The only thing left to do before they leave and step into the vipers den that passes for the vampires’ Court, is for Nightwing to loop the end of Red’s leash over his wrist, and clip it to Red’s collar.

Being outside of Nightwing’s rooms is a test of Red’s will and restraint every single time. The constant dismissive looks and insinuating comments raise his hackles, but Red has to control himself, pretend that the shock collar around his throat is the only thing stopping him from biting all of these parasitical vampires, and running for freedom.

Nightwing throws his leash over his shoulder as he sashays through the corridors to the audience hall. And there’s really no other word for it than sashay, he plays up the vapid party boy role to the point it makes Red’s teeth ache. He smiles at everyone, pretends that their banal conversations are actually interesting, giving cover for Red to listen out for any small scrap of information that might lead to catching the Fae spy.

Walking around the palace, you’d have no clue that a vicious and long-lasting war was raging between the Fae and the Vampire-Werewolf Alliance outside it’s walls. The countryside is ravaged with the constant mining for iron ore to be turned into weapons to use against the Fae, placed into the unwilling hands of werewolf infantry. 

So many of the assaults the Vampires plan always to fall through at the last moment, leading to massive casualties and consistently lost battles. It’s happened too often to be anything other than deliberate. The Fae simply aren’t that good at strategy, too easily distracted and more inclined to party if given the opportunity. Not that different to the Vampires, but Red’s not stupid enough to say that to anybody, not even Nightwing.

Red follows Nightwing into the hall, making sure to keep the leash slack. There are rules about how close and how far away a ‘pet’ is meant to walk from their master; and the last time Red broke that rule, Nightwing had no choice but to confine Red to his rooms. Red hadn’t minded, but Nightwing had been furious at the delay in intelligence gathering.

The audience hall is packed with vampires and their thralls. Some of them also have pets, but Red’s the only one who’ll be forced to sit on the dais at his master’s feet. The only benefit is that he can hear almost everything that happens in the audience hall (and of course, it’s also the downside. He can hear _everything_ that happens) which makes gathering information easier. Red leans back against ‘Wing’s throne, closing his eyes as Nightwing rests his hand on his head. The coolness is reassurance that he’s protected, but to others it looks like a master petting his pet.

In the distance he can hear Raptor asking about the day’s deployments of soldiers, only to receive an entirely accurate answer. But Raptor has nothing to do with the troops, and shouldn’t need or want to know where they are or where they’re going.

“Raptor’s the spy.” Red says, leaning up close to Nightwing’s ear. His breath puffs against his hair, and Red can see Nightwing fight back a shiver at the ticklish motion.

“Raptor is not the spy.” Nightwing sighs, turning to give Red a look of pure exasperation. Oh well, one day Nightwing will have to believe him. It doesn’t matter if today is not that day.

***

**122/20:**

Nightwing stares Red straight in the eye, a pout on his lips. “When did you get taller? I remember you being such a cute little puppy.”

“You’ve known me two years.” Red huffs, rolling his eyes. “And shocker! I’m alive, so I get to grow taller as I age.” 

“I’m wearing heels!” Nightwing says, clicking the heel on his right foot for emphasis. “I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or thrilled.”

“Well, don’t ask me. I never know what you’re feeling or thinking.” Red sighs, turning back to the show. Not that Red would call it a show, considering it’s two very tired werewolves ‘fighting’ two overconfident, lordling vampires. If the weres weren’t wearing shock collars, Red’s sure the two vampires would be rolling around on the floor in agony, their blood coagulating in their veins thanks to the werewolf spit from the bites they’d receive.

“Excuse me, I am the very definition of transparent about my emotions!” Nightwing says, affronted. Red scoffs but says nothing when he realises that an elder vampire is side-eying them. “You’re strong aren’t you?”

“What?” Red feels the elder vampire’s gaze on him again, so he tries again. “I mean, what, your Highness?”

“I bet you could win against them both.” Nightwing says, nodding his head towards the ring.

“Do you mean the werewolves or the vampires?” Red says slowly, feeling his heart sink because he’s pretty sure that ‘Wing is going to answer in one particular way.

“The vampires, of course! Silly Puppy.” Nightwing grins, eyes sparking with amusement. “In fact, in you go!” ‘Wing pushes Red’s back and he stumbles into the ring.

Red sighs, moving into a fighting stance. At least he’s been ordered to win, so he doesn’t have to go easy on these puffed up idiots. To Red’s dismay he knocks them both out with a single punch, and he’s left standing there above two unconscious vampires, and an eerily quiet hall. 

Nightwing grabs his wrist and drags him away, out in the corridors just as a huge roar of outrage echoes in the hall. The door to Nightwing’s quarters slams behind him; Nightwing locking and bolting the door in seconds. Red takes a breath, waiting for the scolding that’s sure to come from ‘Wing.

But it _doesn’t_ come.

Instead Nightwing sashays over to him, pushing at his chest. Red stumbles back, the backs of his knees hitting the chair that Nightwing likes to sprawl in, in front of a roaring fire in winter. Nightwing follows him down, spreading himself over Red’s lap, his thighs resting on Red’s.

“That was impressive.” ‘Wing breathes out, his bright blue eyes narrowed to barely a thin ring. “And did I mention _hot_?”

“Uh...” Red blinks, his nose touching Nightwing’s. It’s weirdly intimate. It feels like the line that they’d been working so hard not to cross is about to be obliterated. Red finds he doesn’t mind at all. He’d been so insistent that they keep their relationship professional, and nothing more; but now he realises that the very idea has been nothing but a lie, and they’ve been heading towards this from the moment their eyes met in the audience hall two years ago.

“You’re so strong.” Nightwing whispers, nuzzling at Red’s cheek. “And you’ve grown so big. I can’t help but wonder if you’re big everywhere.”

“Really.” Red says, staring up at the ceiling. “That was terrible. Does that actually work on people?”

“I mean it!” Nightwing says, sitting back. The beginnings of a real smile tugging at his lips. “At least with you, I really do mean it. I’ve been very good at not looking at you that way, since you asked me not to. I’m genuinely curious!”

“I probably should be surprised that not only do you have a strength kink, but a size kink. Yet somehow I’m not?” Red shakes his head, lowering it only to graze his lips on Nightwing’s. 

“Because after two years, you know me better than probably anyone else alive?” ‘Wing says, licking his lips. The motion brushes the tip of it across Red’s lips too. Red brings his hands to rest on Nightwing’s thighs, and beneath his fingertips he can feel lace and the coolness of vampire skin. Nightwing shrugs, the motion rolling his cape from his arms. “I do want you, you know. My loyal Puppy.”

“Please don’t call me that when we’re about to have sex. It’s such a turn off.” Red mutters, his fingers twitching on Nightwing’s thighs, his claws catching on the delicate lace. “Fuck, sorry...”

“Hmm, yes... Rip it off me.” Nightwing groans, and the scent of want fills Red’s nose. A quick glance down confirms that Nightwing’s really into it. Red clenches his hands, pulling at the lace until it splits right along the seams, leaving Red with all the access he could need. Nightwing pushes his hand down between their bodies, his clever fingers undoing the fly of Red’s jeans easily and slipping inside. “You really _are_ big everywhere. I’m so damn lucky.”

“You smell so good.” Red gasps as Nightwing draws his cock out, giving it a few tugs on the way. The cool skin feels good on his blood heated cock, and the thought of sinking inside ‘Wing is enough to have him fully hard in seconds. “So good.” Red sits up, burying his nose in the crook of shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply. He can feel his mouth water at the combined scent of mint, spice and chill that comes from Nightwing’s skin.

“Mmm, you’re so hot. I want you inside me right now.” Nightwing moans, shifting in Red’s lap and pushing his hips forward. “Please?”

“Fuck, you asked so nicely, how can I refuse?” Red grunts, his hands gripping ‘Wing’s hips and dragging him into position. The tip of his cock bumps up against the rim of ‘Wing’s hole and Nightwing drops down on it, sliding down to the hilt before Red can really register what’s happening.

“So hot and big...” Nightwing cries out, shuddering around Red. The squeeze of the body around Red’s cock is mind-blowing, the coolness is the only thing that stops Red from popping his knot there and then. 

“Tight...” Red hisses. “How are you so tight?” He pulls on Nightwing’s hips, lifting him up. Nightwing waits until the last moment before dropping himself down, crying out as his ass smacks loudly on Red’s thighs. Nightwing’s fingers grip hard enough to bruise on Red’s shoulders as he sets a punishing pace of rising and dropping down, the clutch of his body driving Red insane. He starts thrusting up in time with Nightwing’s riding, causing ‘Wing to scream in ecstasy as his g-spot is battered over and over.

Nightwing jerks without warning, and the only thing that stops Red getting a facial is the lace bodysuit covering Nightwing’s crotch. ‘Wing sobs as he comes, his hole spasming almost violently, squeezing down on Red so perfectly that Red snarls and growls as he continues slamming in. Nightwing slumps down in his arms, letting Red do as he wants. 

Red braces his feet on the floor, pushing up hard with his hips while Nightwing clings on to him. Three rough, hard and brutal thrusts later, he pulls out just enough that his knot pops outside of Nightwing, and he fills his prince up. 

“That was fucking fantastic.” Red sighs, inhaling the faint minty scent of Nightwing’s hair. “Also, the spy is definitely Raptor.”

“Nonsense, I’ve known him all my life, he’s not the spy.” Nightwing lightly swats at his shoulder, hiding his grin between Red’s pecs.

***

**124/22:**

Sitting in the audience hall as Nightwing’s pet is, in Red’s opinion, the worst part of the charade they have to keep up. Partly because he has to act ‘tamed’, but mostly because he has to sit through hearing all the ways the war is threatening to ruin the country and make life harder for his people. For all that Red pretends to sleep most of the time; he does pay attention when the iron mines and alliance come up.

The eastern iron mines are a miserable place, and Red would know since he grew up there. With great pits in the landscape, open to all the elements with no shelter; constantly being dug at by werewolves in chains; the iron ore seams are being harvested at an alarming pace. Bad conditions are turning worse the longer and deeper they have to mine there. The sides of the pits constantly cave in, and the werewolves trapped under the landslides are expected to dig themselves out or perish. No help is ever offered. It’s not somewhere Red ever wants to go back to. 

The mines are horrific, but the latest news from the countryside makes it sound as if the rest of the country isn’t faring that much better. With so many weres in the mines, the fields in the farms are being left fallow; starvation and disease are rife, and swathes of weres are deserting the armies due to lack of rations. 

And yet, by all accounts, they are actually winning the war. The sheer amount of iron ore being mined means that for every soldier in the combined Vampire/Werewolf armies, there are three iron weapons; for every loss the Vampire/Werewolf alliance takes, the Fae take three. Unlike the Werewolves who can and do breed any time during every year, or the Vampires who can reproduce simply by biting and feeding their prey with their own blood; Fae reproduce incredibly slowly, once in fifty years if they’re lucky. It means they have less soldiers over all. 

It sounds to Red as if the Generals are playing a waiting game in their strategies. In the privacy of his own mind, Red rages at the unfairness and injustice of it all. Part of that is how he’s implicit in the injustice. He’s not a soldier on the front lines; he’s no longer working in the mines since a rather stupid vampire decided to attempt to make him into a snack, and Red fought back. He’s well aware how lucky he is right now; he’s been taken in by one of the most high-ranking vampires around, and for the small cost of helping him spy on the court, and to watch his back; Red is safe, well fed, and for the most part, (once they’re back in the safety of the prince’s rooms) happy.

Red opens his eyes, looking up at the Prince. He’s outwardly bored, picking at his nails with a knife. But Red knows he’s listening to all the gossip and conversations going on in the hall. He’s so desperate to find the spy that he devotes nearly all his time to it, while maintaining his reputation as a bored partier. Red’s impressed by his dedication, but it’s mixed with heaps of frustration.

“Your Highness...” Red murmurs quietly, pitching his voice so that only Nightwing can hear him.

“Did you hear something, Puppy?” Nightwing says, leaning forward. His eyes are zeroed in on Red, waiting for his superior werewolf hearing to give him the information he wants.

“I just heard Raptor ask for troop movements again.” Red says, nodding over to the disloyal Head of the Castle Guards.

“I know what you’re going to say, and Raptor is not—” Nightwing sighs, years of repeating himself making the line come out worn and tired.

“He abso-fucking-lutely _is_ the spy.” Red interrupts, years of repeating himself only to not be believed making him even surer of it.

“Puppy...” Nightwing says with a note of warning in his voice. His beautiful face is marred with a frown, and Red sighs.

“Fine. I’ll drop it for today.” Red turns his face away from the look of disappointment on Nightwing’s face. It cuts deeper than he wants to admit. Far deeper than it should.

“Thank you.” Nightwing says, dropping his hand from the arm of his throne to rest on Red’s head. The loop of his leash is around that wrist, and the leash itself bumps into Red’s face. “Oh damn. The ambassador of the Ifrit has arrived already.”

“I thought you liked her?” Red says, staring down at his feet. It’s well known that the Ifrit ambassador would more than happily share the prince’s bed if he showed any interest. Red’s pretty sure the prince _is_ actually interested, and the only thing stopping him is any possible feeling he has for _Red_. It’s a weird situation to be in. 

“I do. But to welcome her delegation properly we need to host a large gala, and we were expecting them next week. Nothing’s ready yet.” Nightwing sounds on the verge of panic, although he looks as calm as Red’s ever seen him be.

“So, you need a few banners, and a lot of wood. What’s hard about that?” Red shrugs, shifting on the spot as Nightwing’s fingers twist gently in his hair. “Just use last year’s.”

“It all got burned up last year. Even the _banners_.” Nightwing almost whines, flattening his fingers in Red’s hair. It’s like he’s using it to calm himself down, not to pet Red. Or at least Red hopes that’s what he’s doing.

“...Well, I’m out of ideas then. Good luck with all that.” Red whispers, subtly reaching up to pull ‘Wing’s hand out of his hair. He needs to at least attempt to present a dignified image to the ambassador, not one of a little boy (which Nightwing hasn’t been in over a century) gripping on tightly to his security werewolf. 

“You say that as if I’m not definitely dragging you to every single public event that’s hosted while they’re here.” Nightwing hisses, plastering a welcoming and indulgent smile onto his face as Starfire, the Ifrit ambassador draws closer.

“You wouldn’t!” Red somehow manages not to snarl. He hates the big parties, no matter how useful they are for gathering information; they’re by turns dull, humiliating, infuriating, and downright soul-destroying.

“Watch me, Puppy.” Nightwing says, giving him one last pat on the head before he turns his full attention to Starfire. Red sits in his spot, stewing in anger, his hands clenched into fists so that his claws aren’t visible, and keeping his mouth firmly closed so that no one can see his fangs.

Fuck, he hates vampires. They think they’re so superior because they ‘live’ longer. They’re parasites, Red thinks, feeding on the bleeding corpses of _his_ people. But is Red any better? He lets Nightwing feed on him; he might try to help his fellow were in the castle, slipping them stakes when he can dare, arranging for their ‘masters’ to be absent for just long enough for the were to escape the castle and the court, but is that enough?

What else could he do? Nightwing might be more willing to listen to a were if he brings him information, but how much of that is simply keeping his pet were happy, and how much is Nightwing truly changing his views on ‘the lesser species’? And for that matter, what does Nightwing really feel for him... Is it ownership, or does he actually care for Red as a true lover?

***

**126/24:**

_“It’s Raptor.” Red says quietly just as the new mercenary sits down to talk to Nightwing._

_“Red, for the last time, the spy is_ not _Raptor!” Nightwing hisses, irritated. “If you have nothing else to say, then return to my rooms._

Red’s furious, sitting in the chair by the fire popping his claws in an out while the shock collar dangles from the light fixture after he threw it in the air. It’s bad enough that _his Highness_ refuses to listen to sense, and has done for years... No, now he’s resorting to sending Red away to his rooms like some sort of pet! He’s meant to be a bodyguard for fuck’s sake. Not to mention he doesn’t trust that mercenary as far as he can throw him. Who names themselves Deathstroke, anyway? It’s overdoing it in Red’s opinion.

So here he is, sitting in Nightwing’s rooms, at a loss on what to do next. He’s saved a decision by Nightwing entering, the door slamming into the wall, only to be immediately slammed shut. Nightwing’s clearly in as good a mood as Red is. ‘Wing stalks over to him, dropping his cape from his shoulders and throwing it over the table. His eyes are narrowed, the pupils almost gone, but glowing a bright blue. 

He moves right into Red’s personal space, but even with his high heels on he’s not as tall as Red now. He glares up at him, not saying a word. He rips at his lacy, legless bodysuit ( _”It’s a leotard, Puppy! Get it right.”_ ) and it falls to shreds in his hands, leaving him entirely naked, save for the heels. Over the years, Red’s managed to work out what Nightwing’s various moods mean, and how best to deal with them. This particular anger is an old familiar friend to them both.

‘Wing jumps up onto Red, wrapping his arms around his neck, and his long legs around his waist. Red barely has time to inhale sharply before Nightwing is kissing him, tongue deep in his mouth. It’s at times like these that Red is reminded that Nightwing forgets that Red has to breathe, as the kiss lingers on and on; even as Red tries to inhale through his nose. Along with the little bit of oxygen he’s treated to the scent of Nightwing’s lust, anger, and frustration. Clearly the meeting was a huge waste of time, given how badly Nightwing’s shaking in Red’s arms. 

Red breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. He walks over to the bed, and throws Nightwing down onto it, watching as he bounces on the mattress. Nightwing simply stares up at him, sprawling where he fell with his eyes glowing an even brighter blue. Red reaches up and back, grabbing the neck of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head. He kicks his shoes off and his jeans follow, leaving him as naked as Nightwing is. 

He crawls over the bed, putting as much wolfish movements as he can without shifting. Nightwing moans quietly, staring at the way Red’s muscles bunch and release as he moves. ‘Wing doesn’t move an inch, letting Red stalk over him; his bulk inches above his supine body. Red sits back on his heels, tilting his head and considering the way ‘Wing’s body is arranged on the bed. He grips Nightwing’s ankle, picking it up and forcing it to spread wide from his other ankle, showing off his hardening cock.

Nightwing lets his leg rest where Red drops it, a small smirk on his lips. Red wants to wipe that smug amusement from his face, so he dives down, letting his tongue loll out and grow longer. He pushes his nose deep in the crevice between ‘Wing’s legs. It takes no effort to lick up his taint, feeling the smooth cool skin there begin to heat up with his breath and spit. Nightwing makes little breathy moans, a hitch in his voice as if he’s trying to stifle sobs. Red closes his eyes and focuses on thrusting his tongue in and out, loosening ‘Wing’s hole, getting it sloppy and wet.

Red’s starting to get hard himself as he swirls his tongue around inside of Nightwing, pushing it as deep as he can. Finally, _finally_ , Nightwing lets out a choking sob, moving his hands to grip at Red’s head. “Puppy, please! I need _more_...”

“Since you asked so nicely, your Highness...” Red smirks, pulling his tongue back in and crawling up Nightwing’s body. He presses Nightwing’s wrists down to the surface of the bed, tightening his grip until Nightwing’s trying to half-heartedly pull them away.

“Puppy...” Nightwing groans, lifting his head from the bed to press another kiss to Red’s lips. It should be unsanitary; but then again, Nightwing lives on a diet of pure fresh blood, which isn’t exactly hygienic either, Red supposes. 

“Fuck, ‘Wing...” Red groans as Nightwing wraps his legs around his waist, the tips of the heels digging into his lower back. It takes little encouragement to slide the tip of his heavy, hard cock inside Nightwing’s prepped hole. He’s used to the slight chill of Nightwing’s body after all this time, but pushing in to the hilt feels like coming home.

Nightwing sighs, the deep pleasure of someone getting exactly what they need. Red snarls, pulling out slowly. ‘Wing’s body squeezes down on him, so tightly it’s like it’s trying to pull him all the way back in and make him stay there. Which is exactly what he wants to do later, but right now, he wants to give Nightwing the vicious, brutal pounding he’s asking for. 

Red starts off slowly, pulling out and thrusting in carefully. No matter how much prep Red gives Nightwing, the fact is he’s fairly large, but ‘Wing loves the stretch and burn of taking a slightly bigger cock than he’s prepped for. He ramps up the pace when Nightwing makes pleading little noises in the back of his throat, looking up at Red likes he holds the answers to everything he’d ever want to ask.

It’s that look of devotion that makes Red squeeze down on his wrists, aiming for that one spot inside of Nightwing that makes him squirm and beg for more, clamping down on Red’s cock so sweetly. ‘Wing looks at Red with love, and it’s such a rare thing in Red’s life that he clings to it, pressing desperate kisses that swallow the gasps and noises that Red forces from Nightwing.

As he speeds up he starts taking less care, fucking in hard and deep. Nightwing’s whines and whimpers are better than music to his ears, the scent of bone deep pleasure and the beginning of ecstasy on ‘Wing’s face drive him to go harder and faster, until the bed is rocking under his thrusts.

Nightwing cries out, jack-knifing up into Red’s chest. He throws his head back and buries his teeth into Red’s shoulder. His cock squirting between their bellies, leaving a white coating behind. His hole squeezes down on Red so tightly that it’s hard not to bite down and hold him in place to take his knot. Red snarls loudly, slamming in all through ‘Wing’s orgasm, feeling his knot starting to inflate. He drives in as deep as possible, feeling the tight clutch strain to take the rapidly growing knot, keeping him locking inside Nightwing as he floods his passage with so much come that it’ll leak out even despite the knot plugging him up. 

Red growls as he slumps down on top of Nightwing, letting go of his wrists and curling his arms around him to cage him in as much as possible. ‘Wing sighs happily, sliding his now free arms around Red’s ribs. He licks at the bite he left, sweeping up the few random droplets left from the now closed wound with his tongue.

“Thanks, Puppy, I really needed that.” Nightwing smiles, pressing another kiss to Red’s throat.

“Any time, ‘Wing.” Red rumbles, feeling the pride that comes from fucking his mate just the way he likes.

***

**128/26:**

“I can’t believe it!” Nightwing says, throwing his arms up in the air in shocked despair. “How could it possibly be him?”

“I have been telling you for fucking _years_ ‘Wing!” Red says, surprisingly patiently considering the circumstances. “ _Years_.”

“But still!” Nightwing sighs, flopping back into his chair. “I can’t believe he’s locked us in here.”

Red rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to bury his face in his palms. “We’re lucky not to be in chains in a dungeon, _your Highness_.”

“Can you still call me that if my family’s been deposed?” Nightwing says, as flippant as ever. 

“I think it means I can finally kick your ass.” Red leans back in his chair, linking his fingers together behind his head. “With no consequences.”

“You could try, Puppy.” Nightwing looks over to Red with an amused look on his face.

“I think I’d do alright if I could get a bite in.” Red shrugs. Sure, Nightwing’s got a century of fighting experience on him, but Red’s spit will clot the blood in his veins leaving him paralysed and vulnerable to either losing his head or a stake to the heart. (Which to be totally fair, kills most things, not just vampires.)

“Hmm. I suppose.” Nightwing taps his bottom lip with his fingers. “Well, I think that’s enough sitting around, don’t you? We should escape, and take Raptor down.”

Red drops his arms down, rolling his shoulders as he does. “Was just waiting on your say-so, _your Highness_.” He stands up and walks over to the thick wooden door laced with the vampire repelling Cemetery Roses. They have absolutely no effect on werewolves, however, apart from a slight disgust at the fragrance, and Red rips down the thick wreaths blocking the door. 

“Thank you, Puppy!” Nightwing says brightly, throwing open the door and stalking along the corridor, usually his cape would be billowing in his wake, but they’d been caught unawares earlier by Raptor’s coup, and so it’s still hanging in his rooms. Red would be staring at the scattering of glitter on the dark cape at this point, instead he’s greeted with the sight of a skintight lace bodysuit, and the straps of a thong covering Nightwing’s plump behind. It’s distracting at a time when he really needs to have his wits about him. 

The corridors of the castle should be filled with guards, but as they make their way through to the audience hall, there’s not a one to be seen. Alarm bells ring in Red’s head, and when Nightwing turns to give him a look, Red nods. There’s something more going on here, and they need to be alert.

Red pushes open the doors to the audience hall, and the absolute hush inside it. It’s packed with vampires and their pet werewolves, all kneeling before Raptor, the treasonous usurper. Nightwing steps into the hall, his heels clicking on the flagstones. His head is held high, his shoulders are pulled back and he stalks to the front of the hall, where Red can see that Raptor has the King Bat on his knees in loops of endless chains. He stares at Nightwing in surprise, clearly confused as to how he escaped. 

“Release him or die.” Nightwing says, his voice ringing loudly through the silent and cowed hall. 

“I did this for you!” Raptor screams, his eyes bulging in his face with fury. “How could you choose him over me?”

“It’s amusing you think you were ever a choice.” Nightwing replies, his tone ice cold, and as Red catches up with him, it’s easy to see the fury glittering in his eyes. “Or it would be, if it weren’t so pathetic.”

“You’d prefer that mongrel?” Raptor sneers. “He’ll only bite the hand that feeds.”

“You’re not fit to say his _name_.” Nightwing snarls, running forward will all his impressive speed. He’s in front of Raptor before most of the assembly can blink, launching himself into a powerful kick that Raptor barely has time to block.

The fighting is fast and frenetic; Red can barely keep up with their movements as he walks through the central aisle of the hall towards the action, but after a little while it’s obvious that Raptor is outmatched by Nightwing. His kicks might be stronger than his punches, but his stamina and dodging are much better than Raptor’s. Nightwing gets Raptor into a headlock on his knees, and he grips on tightly, one arm extended out. “Red, now!” 

Red wastes no time lunging forward, opening his mouth and sinking his fangs into Raptor’s arm. He bites down deep, holding on as Raptor thrashes. He lets go when the movements stop. And as Raptor sinks to his knees, Red spits out the cold dead blood from his mouth. 

Nothing has felt as triumphant as flicking his claws out to shove his arm through Raptor’s chest. When he pulls it out, Raptor’s dead unbeating heart comes with it. Red throws it over his shoulder into the one remaining lit brazier.

With Raptor turning into dust in Nightwing’s hold, the entire hall goes quiet. The King Bat rises from his knees, walking over to Nightwing, still in his chains. He takes Nightwing’s hand and lifts it up in victory. 

“All hail, King Nightwing!” The King Bat intones, his voice making the entire hall rumble.

“What? No!” Nightwing splutters, shocked. He tries to pull his arm down, but the King Bat doesn’t let him. “I can’t be king!”

“Too late, I’ve decreed it. Enjoy ruling.” The King Bat says, the faintest hint of a smirk on his usually stony lips. He finally lets Nightwing’s arms drop. “Of course, you realise this means you can make Red your prince consort.”

“...I can? Oh my days, I can.” Nightwing smiles widely and wickedly, showing off his fangs. “You know, I did always want to be king.”

“Hey, what if I don’t wanna be prince consort?” Red says, frowning. He does, but being consulted on the decision is something he wants just as much. Being a prince consort means nothing if he’s still nothing but a slave in name.

“But if you aren’t, I can’t marry you.” Nightwing says entirely reasonably, but the look in his eyes promises something that Red wants, badly. “It’ll be much easier to give true equality and freedom to the Weres if you’re sitting on the throne with me.

“Oh.” Red says intelligently. “In that case never, mind. I’ll marry you. It’ll be a hardship, but I can do it for my people.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage somehow.” Nightwing smirks, beckoning him closer. “You’re a hard worker after all.”

“Well...” Red says, smirking as he stands in front of Nightwing, slipping his hand into his. “You’re a lot of work, _your Highness._ ”

“Thank you, Puppy.” Nightwing smiles, for once something true that reaches his eyes. He leans over pressing a gentle kiss to Red’s mouth. The audience hall erupts into chaos; screams of objections from the vampires, and whoops of congratulations from the werewolves at the same time. “I’m worth it.”

“I told you Raptor was the spy.” Red whispers into his ear, smirking. “And no, I’m never letting you live that down.”

~*~

 **ElctrcBluEskrima:**  
OH MY GOD! That... I don’t have words for how hot that was! I loved the world of the vampires and werewolves, but omg! Red and Nightwing were just so hot, OMG! 

Also my bank account now hates you because I saw skintight lacy bodysuits, and had to search for them, and uh, well, whoops! I bought a few... but maybe one day I’ll wear them for my own Red!

 **theHoodedGargoyle:**  
Glad you liked it. I feel like I didn’t really do the world they lived in justice, but if I’d fleshed it out the damn thing would have been twice as long.

Uh... I apologise to your bank account, but also _fuckdamn_ , your Red is gonna be a lucky bastard one day. I’d love for my guy to wear one of those for me. Sadly, I’ve only got my imagination.


	7. 80's Musician AU

It’s not just his relationship with Dick that’s been growing lately. 

He’s been talking more with ElctrcBluEskrima. They’ve always been an insightful commenter, willing to lend an ear when Jason’s having trouble with writing, or anything else in fact. And in return, Jason’s offered advice and listened to ElctrcBluEskrima’s troubles in life. It took a while for Jason to realise that he considers ElctrcBluEskrima to be a friend, and not just an anonymous persona on the internet. It’s what’s stopped him from investigating him, finding out who is offline. Jason’s studiously ignoring that Barbara’s probably done it for him, that’s there’s a file somewhere on her hard drive waiting for him to break down and ask her. Never mind that he hasn’t spoken to her in years, he still knows what Babs is like.

ElctrcBluEskrima’s intensely private and sometimes oddly unavailable, but they’re creative and funny, and they inspire Jason to new heights with their comments and conversations. The only way Jason can think of to thank them is to write their dream fic. It takes a few weeks of snooping and jokingly asking outright what ElctrcBluEskrima wants to see, but he manages to write something to show his appreciation. And if Jason’s honest, he thinks it’s his favourite work yet. 

~*~

**Young Guns Having Some Fun  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: When Rockstar Red meets Popstar Nick, they hit it off immediately. As they grow closer over the months, will their success remain only in the charts or will it include their hearts? 

_July 1983_

Red has no idea what the guy making the bookings for this week’s show was thinking. A pop duo like Titans! right after his metal band, Outlaws? They just don’t mesh. But he supposes the parents of whichever kids are watching will be appeased by Titans! unthreatening clean-cut good looks. (Although Red’s gotta admit, he’s heard some rumours about Ray Hapless being an out-and-out womaniser.) The only upside is that after last time, when Red swore live on air, he’s forbidden from joining any interview segments. Which means he gets to hang out in the Green Room backstage, drinking beer, while his bandmates have to make nice now that they’ve finished performing. The downside is that he has to be in the same room as the boys from Titans!

Although, if that’s the only downside, there are much worse things in the world that shoving his sunglasses up his nose and eyeing Nick Wiyson, prettyboy lead singer of the pop group. Because between God (if he even exists, and Red kinda doubts it) and Red; Nick’s exactly his type. Not as delicate as he first appears, stupidly pretty with a kind, warm smile and a killer bod, Nick’s the type of boy that Red wants to bend over the bed and introduce to his g-spot. Thinking about it is a nice way to while away the time until his bandmates are free from the tyranny of live television. 

Red leans back, his leather jacket squeaking on the pleather of the cream sofa; he hopes that the cheap furniture hasn’t leave a mark on his old black jacket. He slips it off, checking that the embroidered ‘Outlaw’ patch is still pristine, which it is. Red looks over at Titans!, enjoying the view, knowing full well his mirrored aviators are hiding exactly where his eyes are lingering over the Lacoste polo shirts, chinos and boat shoes that the pop duo wears. 

Which is probably why it’s such a surprise, and harder than it should be, to keep his face blank when he realises that Nick’s staring back at him. He’s not being subtle about it. Nick’s redheaded bandmate, Ray’s too busy reading the clipboard one of the assistants shoved at him to notice, but Nick is definitely giving Red the full foot to head look over. 

Nick’s eyes linger over Red’s thighs, his abs and his biceps, a mix of awe and want in his gaze. Red shifts under the scrutiny and Nick lips his lips subconsciously, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as he continues to stare. Red turns his head to look at Nick a little more deliberately, and then blows a kiss his way.

Nick flushes a dull pink, which is a good look for him, but intriguingly, he doesn’t look away. He’s definitely interested in Red, and Red’s interested right back. The only question is how to get prettyboy Nick alone long enough to do something, or set up a time to do _something_ ; Red’d prefer the latter. Something about the way Nick moves makes Red want to really take his time with him; show him what rough trade like Red can do to him.

“What the hell! No.” Ray mutters, standing up and leaving the room, eyes glued to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your mom never told you it was rude to stare?” Red says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Nick’s eyes widen as he watches Red’s bare arms flex.

“Uh... Sorry.” Nicks says, looking away red-faced. “I uh... I was trying to read the slogan on your shirt.”

“It says Fuck Da Police.” Red snorts, staring at the way Nick fidgets. Fuck, but he wants to get his hands on this boy. “But ya knew that, didn’t ya?” 

“I guess.” Nick shrugs, reaching up and checking that his collar is still popped. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Since we’re being all friendly like.” Red grins, making sure that his teeth show in his grin. Nick fights a shudder, and Red considers it a win.

“Your jacket... Uh, isn’t it a bit... that you’ve put a patch on it after your band?” Nick crosses his legs, his chinos pulling up to reveal that he’s got no socks on under his shoes.

“Well, it fucking would be.” Red says, leaning back and stretching his arms over the back of the sofa. “Except the band was named after the patch on my jacket.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” Nick nods, his styled and gelled hair not moving an inch as he does.

“It’s not common knowledge, but the fans know, and that’s all I care about.” Red snorts, lifting one leg to rest his boot on the edge of the sofa seat. 

“You’re not really how I expected you to be.” Nick says, tilting his head to look at Red. “I thought you’d be, I don’t know, rowdy and vulgar, but you’re not really. I don’t know what to make of you.”

“Sounds like you want to get to know me better.” Red gives a quick smirk. “You’re not what I expected either.”

“I’m not?” Nick says, blinking in confusion.

“No.” Red shifts in his seat again, watching as Nick’s eyes travel down to his groin. Oh yeah, prettyboy there is definitely not straight. “You’re fucking surprisingly intriguing.”

“Instead of a vapid, insipid, pop singer?” Nick says, dragging his gaze back up to Red’s face. “I read my own reviews. I’m more than just what my record label lets me be. Just like you are.”

“You callin’ me a fake?” Red drops his foot down, leaning forward. “It’d only do great for my rep to punch you right now, you know that, right?”

“No! Obviously, you’re authentic!” Nick rushes to say, hands up in the universal ‘I didn’t mean it like that’ pose. “I meant, we’re more than just the music and the aesthetic. Both of us.”

“Yeah. You’re _intriguing_.” Red leans back, hearing the familiar sound of his bandmates in the corridor.

“Thanks. So are you.” Nick gives a small smile, and yeah, Red can see why all the teenage girls fucking wet themselves over seeing Nick in person, or even his poster. There’s something about that smile you want to get close to, want to see directed at you and you alone. 

Red reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out the complimentary pad of paper and pen that his hotel provided in his room. He’d picked it up to scribble down lyrics, but this will be a much more fun use. It’s got the name and phone number on the printed header, Red just adds his room number. The ruckus from his band gets louder as it gets closer, so Red stands up, slipping his jacket on, and tears the page off, handing it to Nick. “Here. Use this.”

“I... Thanks, but for what?” Nick says frowning faintly at the piece of paper in his hand.

“I think you know.” Red leers, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. “Call me. We could have some fun. All discreet like, since you probably need that.”

“I... OK.” Nick says, his gaze flicking between the paper and Red. “What sort of fun?”

“Casual. Private. Whatever you’re into.” Red shrugs, looming over Nick who’s still sitting. “Gotta go. Catch you later.”

He opens the door, seeing his bandmates giving their manager grief as usual. As the door closes behind him he hears a mystified Nick say “What the hell does casual fun mean?”

***

 _July_

The knock on the door comes late at night, when Red’s in a t-shirt and boxers. He’s still a little wired from the show earlier, but instead of going out to hook up anonymously like usual, he’d come back to the hotel room alone, thoughts of Nick on his mind.

He opens it and to his surprise, it’s Nick, looking nervous. His clothes are still as fresh and fashionable as they were last time Red saw him, and the urge to shove his polo shirt up to his armpits and shove those chinos to the floor only intensifies. “I see we skipped the phone call to just coming over un-fucking-announced.”

“Can I come in? There’s some paparazzi outside I think we both want to avoid.” Nick says, glancing up at him with a pleading look in those bright blue eyes.

Red steps away from the door, letting Nick slip in to firmly close and lock it behind himself. “So, are you here for a little casual fun or something a little more _intense_?”

“I don’t really know what that means.” Nick says, flustered. He drops his big shouldered suit jacket on a nearby chair, biting his lip. “I’m not even sure what I’m doing here. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“OK, we’ll just take it easy then.” Red steps closer to Nick, until he’s barely any distance away from him.

“I don’t even know what _this_ is.” Nick says, lifting his face to Red’s. They’re close enough to kiss, but Red doesn’t close the gap. Not yet.

“Sex, with men.” Red says quietly, watching the way Nick inhales sharply. The look in those eyes makes him wonder exactly how much experience Nick actually has. “Sex at all?”

“Oh.” Nick breathes out, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I, uh... Only with women and it’s been uh... A while.”

“You gonna let me show you how good it is, prettyboy?” Red says, lifting his hands to rest them lightly on Nick’s hips. “Nothing too fancy, a finger or two.”

Nick breathes out heavily, the want in his eyes almost eclipsing the blue. “I want your hands on me. Please.”

“So polite. I love it.” Red grins, pulling Nick flush against him. “I’m gonna rock your world, baby. Let’s get those clothes off you.”

Red walks Nick back to the bed, pulling his shirt up over his head. A gentle push and Nick falls back, his legs parting automatically. Red can’t help the grin at the sight, Nick really is _exactly_ his type. He reaches down, and Nick’s hands slide under his as he reaches for his belt. Red stands back, letting Nick strip off on his own. Red smiles wider, pulling his own shirt off and kneeling in between Nick’s spread legs. 

“Easy, right?” Nick says, biting his lip. “Nothing fancy.”

“Exactly.” Red nods, leaning up on his knees to press a gentle kiss to Nick’s mouth; Nick moans, both in surprise and want, so Red deepens the kiss until Nick’s clinging on to him. “You know how this works?”

Nick’s flushed and his gaze is hazy but he nods. “Vaguely. I mean, I know what goes where when it’s two guys.”

“Good. Just fingers today.” Red says gently, holding up his hand and giving Nick a two fingered salute. Nick inhales, staring at Red’s fingers. He reaches out and with shaking fingers gently traces the size and shape of them. “Fucking suck ‘em. You know where they’re goin’.” 

Nick pulls Red’s hand to his face, licking and sucking on his fingers until Red wishes it was his cock in that mouth, not his fingers. “Please?” Nick slurs around them. “Can we start?”

“We already have, baby.” Red grins, pulling his hand out and pushing Nick down onto the bed with the other. “Spread a little wider for me, and I’ll show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.”

Nick does, and Red takes a moment to appreciate the view. Nick’s got long legs, the type you want wrapped around your waist, a pretty cock, already hard and leaking over his body, and a ballsack that Red wants to spank. Instead he lets his fingers drop lower, pressing on Nick’s hole. Nick inhales sharply. “Fuck...”

“Nearly, baby. Relax for me, OK?” Red pushes one finger in, revelling in the tight heat. He thrusts in and out, loosening Nick up to take the second one. It slips in as easy as the first one did, and Red crooks them both, hitting Nick’s g-spot, making him wail and grab onto the bedcovers tightly. The tight, hot pressure around Red’s fingers is bliss, and he wishes it was his cock inside Nick, not just his fingers. But Nick deserves to be treated right, to go slow and enjoy discovering what he likes. “If you wanna touch your cock, go ahead.” 

Nick’s moan is all the verbal response he gets; instead Nick spreads his legs wider, arching his back more to take more of Red’s fingers, faster. The lewd wet noises seem louder now that Nick’s spread his legs, and Red can’t look away as his fingers are swallowed by Nick’s entrance. That Nick’s getting off so much on nothing but being fucked is a little mind-blowing. The tremble and strain in those flawless thighs is only added to when sweat starts dripping down them. Nick’s cock is dripping, and so hard that Red can’t believe he doesn’t want to jerk off.

It’s the hottest thing Red can remember seeing, Nick whining and writhing on his fingers. It’s enough for him to wrap his free hand around his own hard, heated and leaking cock, pulling in time with his other hand. Watching Nick covering his belly with ribbons of white come is electrifying, and Red follows suit embarrassingly quickly after, coating his hand messily, way beyond satisfied. 

He crawls up the bed, flopping down on the pillow. Nick curls up next to him. “Can we see each other again?” Nick says, resting his cheek on Red’s shoulder.

“I dunno.” Red says after a long pause. “Dating’s so hard for people like us. It’s not really worth it. Or at least I’ve never found anyone worth it before.”

“So, we can’t date?” Nick says, keeping very still. 

Red’s not angry at being asked, if anything he’s a little sad, because he would love to see Nick again. “It’s not that we can’t.” Red says slowly. “It’s just harder than a normal relationship. It’s why I usually stick to one night stands.”

“Normal...” Nick breathes out, sounding suddenly unsure. 

“Normal for us – touring musicians.” Red says, looking down at him with a grin. “Dudes hooking up is perfectly normal, in my humble, but incredibly fucking right, opinion. But have you ever tried to date someone when you’re on the road? That didn’t end in total disaster? It’s even harder when you’re trying to keep it a secret too.” And they would have to keep it secret. Their record labels could and would make their lives hell. More so for Nick than Red, since half of Nick’s fanbase is teenage girls who want to fuck him.

“Uh. A couple of times, actually. Both times didn’t work out. I’ve had no luck with love. It’s always a failure.” Nick says, sadly. “It’s why Ray writes the upbeat happy songs, and I write the breakup ones.”

“Huh, from your personalities, I’d’ve thought it was the other way round.” Red says, giving Nick a squeeze as he grins.

“What? I like sad and deep.” Nick shrugs. It’s well known that Nick’s best solo-penned song is a mournful ode to fucking up a longterm relationship; even Red’s bandmates have admitted it’s a great song.

“Fuck, so many bad innuendoes I could make there.” Red snorts, shaking his head.

“I like innuendos.” Nick says, shifting from his side, rolling up to straddle Red’s hips. He rests his hands on Red’s abs.

“You like it deep in-your-endo.” Red grins, putting on an over-the-top leer at Nick.

“Oh my god, that was terrible! I love it.” Nick laughs, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle his volume. Red stares up at him, realising that _this_ is the exact moment that he’s falling in love with Nick. Nick leans down to kiss him, sweet and happy. Red knows he falls fast and hard, but saying ‘I love you’ to someone you probably won’t ever see again is stupid, and way too early in any case.

*** 

_August_

The tv high on the wall of the recording studio is showing a countdown of the latest chart hits, not that Red’s watching it. No, absolutely not. 

“Ugh, why are you watching _this_?” Temis says, as she stalks out of the recording booth, her long red hair swinging behind her.

“I’m not. The remote’s all the way over there, and I didn’t care enough to move and change the channel.” Red shrugs, looking back down at the magazine in his lap. Luckily, it’s not open on Nick’s photoshoot or he’d never live it down.

“Fine, _I’ll_ change it.” Temis sighs, sounding highly put-upon. Which is probably not that inaccurate given that, as the lead singer of the Outlaws, she has to be in charge of three dumbass men on a daily basis.

“No!” Red says, sitting up suddenly. “I mean, uh... Fuck.”

“You are, in fact, watching it.” Temis says flatly, giving Red a ‘why do I put up with you?’ look. Red knows that she cares, and not just for his excellent bass skills, but she has no patience for fools.

“...Yes.” Red sighs, totally caught out. He flops back onto the sofa, defeated by the power or Temis’ glare.

“ _Why_?” Temis sounds genuinely flabbergasted (or as much as she ever does) at the idea of watching the Pop Chart countdown.

“...They’re going to be showing Nick’s new video, and I can’t mock it to his face if I haven’t seen it?” Red says, hoping she’ll at least buy the mocking story, if nothing else. He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck under her scrutiny.

“A likely story.” Temis huffs, one eyebrow raised; but she sits down on the sofa next to him and doesn’t make a move to change the channel.

Bez finishes his drum solo, walking out of the other sound booth, drumsticks in hand and a familiar goofy look on his face. It only leaves Pip to finish up his segment of their latest track. Once the second guitar’s done, they can lay it all down and see if it sounds better live and all together, or separately. Red tends to prefer their live vibe, but lately Temis has been leaning toward a more polished sound. He’s not gonna argue if she likes the studio version more. She’s in charge after all.

Bez perches his massive body on a small stool, that would fit his younger twin Pip’s size far better, turning to look up at the tv. “Prettyboy is on tv.”

Red looks up, and sure enough, it’s the start of Nick’s new video. Red watches as Nick swaggers along the street to the beat, looking like he’s having a great time. The beat’s annoyingly catchy, and Red has to fight not to tap along with it. There’s a rap of pretty questionable quality before a fairly decent (in Red’s opinion) chorus starts up.

_Wise guys realise there's danger in emotional ties. See me, single and free. No tears, no fears, what I want to be._

Ray must have written this one, Red thinks. Nick’s too romantic to be extolling the virtues of not getting married to your lover. It’s not the worst song he’s ever heard, and the video is stupid in an endearing way, with Nick convincing Ray to ditch his fiancée for a life of single fun and dancing.

Bez is unashamedly tapping his sticks along with the beat, smiling as he does. Even Temis doesn’t seem to loathe it, which leaves Red with a strangely warm feeling in his chest on Nick’s behalf. He can’t wait to get back to the hotel and call Nick. He makes a mental list of things in the video to tease him about, not least the clothes, and whatever the hell the stylist did to Nick’s hair. (Having seen it in its natural state, Red thinks it looks a fuck of a lot better down; soft, able to shift in the breeze, wonderfully touchable; than gelled up and stiff.)

It feels like days until Red shuts the hotel door behind him, instead of a few interminably long hours. He kicks off his shoes, dropping his leather jacket over the desk chair, and throws himself down face first onto the bed. Red lets himself breathe in the hotel’s laundry detergent for a good long minute before he forces himself further up the bed and onto his back. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 11.03pm flashing the seconds away in bright red digits. The phone rings and Red grins. This late at night it can only be one person.

“Nick.” Red says, holding the handset to his face.

“Red! It’s not too late is it?” Nick’s voice is a little tinny down the line, but it’s otherwise clear.

“Hardly. I’m barely getting started for the night.” Red snorts, stretching out on the bed. He shoves his free arm beneath his head. “Saw your new video.”

“Yeah? OK, before you give me your scathing critique on the video, what did you think of the music?” Nick says, and Red can picture him grinning at the other end of the line.

“Ray definitely wrote it.” Red smiles up at his hotel room ceiling. “It’s too happy for you.”

“Ray did write it.” Nick says, and the rustling of clothes comes over the line. Red wonders where he is. “There’s a bit of irony in me singing a song Ray wrote that is literally him trying to get me to stop being so serious about an ex he knew wouldn’t work out.”

“Only a _bit_?” Red bites back a deep laugh. “No kidding. Was that Cordelia or the other one?”

“Brenda. Yeah. I’d proposed.” Nick sounds almost ashamed. “They both knew it wouldn’t work out, but I was in serious denial.”

“Yeah, that tracks with what you’ve told me.” Red says gently, before changing the subject. “But getting back to the song? It was annoyingly catchy, but I liked the chorus.”

“I’m telling Ray you gave it your approval.” Nick laughs, sounding relaxed.

“I wouldn’t go that fucking far!” Red protests. “I just wouldn’t break the radio if the song came on.”

“Uh huh.” Nick laughs, clearly not believing him. “Feel free to mock our clothes, now.”

“Ray was like something off a catwalk, and I do not mean that as a compliment.” Red grins. “You looked like you walked off the cast of Grease, yet somehow I was into it. Don’t ask me why.”

“It’s because I asked Wardrobe for a jacket as close to yours as possible.” Nick says, letting his voice drop an octave. “You were probably picturing me in yours.”

“Well, I wasn’t. But I fucking am _now_.” Red growls, looking over to his Outlaws jacket. It’d be too big on Nick, unlike the perfectly fitting one he wore in the video. The thought of Nick getting enveloped by his jacket makes his stomach twist pleasantly and warmth grows in his chest.

“And you like it?” Nick’s curiousity is obvious despite how tinny his voice is. “Because I have to say, I would be totally willing to wear your jacket for you.”

“I probably shouldn’t, but yeah, I fucking like it, baby.” Red sighs into the mouthpiece. “I miss seeing you. Touring sucks.”

“I’ll be back soon.” Nick says quietly. “We’re meant to start recording in two weeks. I think we’re at the same studio you’re using actually.” 

“Isn’t that convenient.” Red grins.

“Isn’t it?” Nick’s smile is audible over the line.

***

_August_

Red pulls his hair back into a low ponytail, some stubborn curls escaping despite how tightly he yanks them back. He’s been laying down the bass line for their newest song for a couple of hours now, and the recording studio has no AC despite it being the hottest time of the year. 

Everyone else has taken a break, leaving him alone in the studio. A knock comes on the door, and Red looks up to see Nick standing there with hopeful smile on his pretty face.

“Red! Are you free?” Nick says, his brightly printed shirt clashing with his shorts. “Man, your hair’s got long. You could give Slash a run for his money. Or Brian May.”

“Your clothes are blinding me.” Red retorts, grinning happily. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Ray drove me here, and told me to ‘sort myself out before he strangles me’. So, here I am.” Nick shrugs, walking into the recording room.

“Sort yourself out?” Red takes his bass guitar off and sets it down. “You having a problem?”

“More of a belated revelation?” Nick shrugs, face flushing pink. “I realised that I’m... I’m gay.”

“You didn’t know that?” Red blinks. “But we fucked. Repeatedly.”

_“OK, I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” Nick says, finally replacing the handset of the phone into the cradle after Red hangs up. “...Ray, I think I’m gay.”_

_(“Oh thank fuck, you finally caught up.” Ray says, relief obvious in the way his shoulders slump._

_“What?” Nick blinks at him._

_“What what?” Ray says, raising an eyebrow at Nick._

_“Why aren’t you surprised?” Nick says turning fully to face him._

_“Dude, I’ve known you years.” Ray sighs, setting down his magazine. “I was there when you broke up with Brenda because we’re always on tour, after all. And I was there when the next year, and you were dating Cordelia, and she asked you if you wanted to further, and you realised you didn’t._ Cordelia _, the girl so hot even the straight girls on the crew want her. I know your relationship kinda fizzled out after that. No, I’m not surprised at all.”_

_“Oh.” Nick leans back, remembering how Cordelia had been so nice to him after he’d admitted he didn’t want to sleep with her. The intensity went, and it wasn’t a surprise to either of them when they broke up. They’d somehow stayed friends, which was good since she’s one of the best backing singers Nick knows._

_“I’m only surprised that Red Hood is your type.” Ray snorts, waggling his eyebrows at Nick. “I mean, really? I’m right here.”_

_“You date seven women a week. I don’t find that attractive.” Nick sniffs, fighting back a smile._

_“Harsh but accurate.” Ray snorts, reaching over to mess up Nick’s hair with affection. )_

“Sometimes I don’t see what’s right in front of my face.” Nick ducks his head, coming over to stand in Red’s space.

Red looks Nick up and down, gaze flicking to the recording studio window to check no one is there. “And what’s right in front of your face?”

“You.” Nick says, looking up at Red through his lashes. “And me. Together. Properly.”

“Properly.” Red says, his heart in his throat. He wants to marry this boy, but it can’t happen. The idea that Nick might want that too is overwhelming.

“As much as we can? I hope.” Nick nods, biting his lip. “Do you want that?”

“Yes. Yes, I want that, and I want _you_.” Red slides his hands around Nick’s waist pulling him flush to his chest. “I want you in my band, I want you in my jacket, I _want you_. However I can have you.” 

Nick’s hands twist into the straps of Red’s tank, pulling him down for a kiss. Their lips meet, and all thoughts of where they are and who could see them fly out of Red’s head. All he can focus on now is the glide of Nick’s mouth on his, the way their bodies meld into one another, and how damn long it’s been since they had enough time to actually fuck.

They shed their clothes without a word, their lips still joined. Red pushes Nick up against the foam covered wall, reaching down to drag his leg up over his hip. The feel of skin on skin is electrifying, and the noise of loss that Nick makes as they finally pause kissing long enough to look at each other rends Red’s heart. 

“Wait...” Nick pants, rocking his hard cock on Red’s belly. “You said something about ‘having me in your jacket?’”

“Yeah? You want that?” Red grunts, leaning back. Nick nods, almost frantically. Red drops him down to the floor, turning to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. He slips his hand in the pocket, pulling out the tube of lube before sliding it around Nick’s shoulders. While Red lubes his fingers up, Nick slips his arms in, and strikes a pose.

“How do I look?” Nick says, throwing Red some ‘come hither’ eyes over his shoulder.

“Like you’re about to get wrecked.” Red laughs, pressing his hand between Nick’s shoulders. Nick ends up bracing his face against the foam wedges on the wall with one arm; the other gripping Red’s other hand to his hip.

“Promises, promises.” Nick laughs, the sound turning into a moan as Red slides his fingers inside.

“Damn, you’re taking them so easy.” Red says appreciatively, watching as his two fingers slide in and out of Nick’s hole with barely any resistance.

“I’ve been stretching myself. Thinking about you.” Nick moans as Red hits that spot inside him that makes his knees go week. “Please, I’m ready.”

Red slides his fingers out, missing Nick’s tight heat already. Pressing in to the hilt feels like coming home, and Red leans over Nick’s back, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Fuck, you feel good.”

“You feel amazing. Please, move.” Nick tilts his head back, his mouth dropping open as Red does exactly that. He pulls out slowly, revelling in how tight and hot Nick is for him. Pushing in makes his mind melt with how damn perfect it feels. 

The feeling is only improved by the sight of his jacket hanging over Nick’s waist, framing his hole stretched around Red’s cock, as it thrusts in and out. Nick hitches out a sob, squeezing down on him repeatedly.  
“Fuck yes, work it for daddy.” Red groans, breathlessly. 

“Red, oh god, I want to see you...” Nick cries out, pushing back on Red’s cock to take it harder and deeper. 

“Yeah, show me that pretty face, baby.” Red says between gritted teeth. He leans forward, biting down on Nick’s neck, hard enough to bruise. He lets go, stepping back, his cock slipping out. Nick stands up, knees shaking as he turns around. There are tears running down his face, and it makes something dark and possessive rear up in Red’s chest.

“Red...” Nick whispers, and Red rushes towards him, yanking his legs up around his waist and pushing in deep and perfect. “Yes, yes, yes!” Nick wraps his leather clad arms around Red’s shoulders. His fingers dig in to Red’s shoulder blades and the pinpricks of pain just goad Red into fucking a little harder, deeper, and meaner. 

Ecstasy flicks up Red’s spine, and the sight of fresh tears on Nick’s cheeks only makes him want to show Nick exactly what he can take. He leans forward, licking away the salty water. Nick sobs again, his hand sliding into Red’s low ponytail, dragging his mouth closer to his for a series of frantic kisses.

“You’re bein’ so good for daddy.” Red pants between kisses, thrusting in as hard as he dares. 

“Red!” Nick whines, shifting his legs around Red’s waist and clinging on tighter to his shoulders. More tears fall as Nick’s bounced hard between Red’s thighs and the wall. “You’re so hard... In so deep... Oh _fuck me_...”

“Fuck... You’re crying for how good it feels, baby?” Red snarls, pressing their foreheads together. Nick’s open, vulnerable, blissful look is intoxicating. “You love being mine, huh?”

“I’m yours!” Nick whimpers; eyes wide, leaking tear after tear. He presses a salty kiss to Red’s lips, shaking and shuddering as Red pounds in hard and fast, making him come all over their bellies. Red slams in, shooting his load deep inside Nick’s welcoming hole. “And you’re mine too, Red. You’re mine too.”

“Fuck yeah, I am, baby.” Red groans, dropping his forehead to rest on Nick’s shoulder while he catches his breath. “I really fucking am.”

***

_September_

“I’m just saying, Pip.” Bez pouts while his shorter twin glares at him. “Rotary phones are better than buttons.” 

“This car is not big enough for you two to have this stupid argument here.” Temis says, shifting in her seat next to Red. “I’m so glad I joined a metal band. The intellectual conversations are so thrilling. MTV should do a special.”

“You keep wearing that shirt, and they will do.” Red grins, tugging at the hem of Temis’ white ‘Nobody Knows I’m A Lesbian’ tank top. “You can shock and disgust all of Middle America.”

“Your mouth is open, and words are coming out.” Temis stares at him flatly. “It’s never a good look on you. It’s barely a step up from Bon Jovi.”

“Rude and uncalled for.” Red says cheerfully. “Pip likes Bon Jovi.”

“I like Livin’ On A Prayer!” Pip protests, his head whipping around from glaring at Bez. “It’s not the same thing!”

“I’m surrounded by imbeciles.” Temis sighs, closing her eyes. “Speaking of, the tv show we’re on our way to is having Titans! on too, so please try not to be too obviously drooling over Wiyson. At least on camera.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Red says, stiffening up, the smile freezing on his face.

Bez and Pip turn twin stares on Red, doing that annoying silent twin conversation. Pip nods, and Bez bites his lip before speaking. “We think it’s great that you’re friends! We like Nick, he’s nice.”

Red narrows his eyes. “But?” 

“No buts. Apart from the fact you drool over his butt like a dog.” Temis says, eyes still closed. “Just be careful around other people.”

“Tem...” Red begins to say, fumbling for a good excuse to cover for his apparently obvious to everyone feelings.

“You’ll be fine. You’re our bassist, and management are honestly more worried about me murdering a misogynist pig than you getting discovered with your cock in a boy’s mouth.” Temis opens her eyes, and shockingly actually _smiles_ at Red. “If it does come out, I’ll just pull an Ozzy and eat a chicken’s head on stage. Problem solved. For us.”

“Thanks. I think.” Red blinks, trying to relax. “Don’t eat any birds on stage though.”

“Worry about Nick.” Temis says, reaching over and messing up Red’s long loose curls. “His entire career is based on being unthreatening and available to teenage girls.”

“I’m aware.” Red mutters. “Nick’s aware. I’ll be the picture of bored straight dude bassist tonight.”

Temis sighs. “It’s not like I enjoy telling you to hide. I’m about two arguments with management away from telling everyone that I only like women.”

“Tem, I hate to tell you, but that shirt is doing it for you.” Bez says quietly, his eyes wide as he stares at her shirt.

“I’m meant to change before we go on air.” Temis shrugs, looking unconcerned, but there’s no way she’s not.

Red taps his fingers on his thigh, coming to a decision. “OK, Band vote: Tem stays in the shirt on air and we suffer the consequences, fuck what management thinks. Or, Tem changes and we’re all fucking miserable.”

“Stays in the shirt.” Pip says instantly.

Bez nods. “Doesn’t change.”

“Well, we got three fucking votes for you wearing it.” Red says, looking Temis straight in the eyes. “But it’s up to you.”

Temis holds his gaze, as fierce and bold as ever. “Are you all sure? Because if you are, I’m wearing it.”

“Fuck yeah!” Pip grins, throwing his arm around his taller, bulkier brother. “You look really good in that one.”

The car slows to a stop, and a security guard opens the door, letting the band get out of the car. Their manager appears, helping the assistant for the show they’re about to appear on escort them to the Green Room. He’s completely absorbed by the clipboard in his hands as they walk along, and he wordlessly hands Temis a shirt as he leaves them in the Green Room. She looks at it with disgust, dropping it on the coffee table as she flops into an armchair.

They’ve barely got settled when the door opens and Titans! are ushered in. Nick’s smile goes from fake and polite to real and wide the second he sees Red. He takes an urgent step forward before he realises that there are people other than Red in the room.

“Hey.” Ray nods at them, dropping down onto one end of the unoccupied sofa. “You guys are performing tonight, too?”

Temis snorts, giving Ray a deliberate once-over. “If you can call lipsyncing half a song performing, then yes. We are.”

“Fuck, I know right? Just let us play live, damn.” Ray says amiably. “You guys absolutely shred, by the way. I can’t play guitar, but I’ve seen you with your axe, and hoo boy! Killer.”

Bez beams, always so pleased to meet anyone who likes their music. “You like our stuff?”

“Hell yeah. I seriously considered playing drums in a metal band before Nicky here revealed he wanted to be a singer. And I had to back my bro up, right?” Ray says, slapping Nick on the shoulder as he sits down on the sofa, unable to take his eyes off Red.

Temis hums, not actually saying anything, but there’s an approving light in her eyes. Pip nods and responds with a “Hell yeah!” 

Red blows Nick a kiss, watching him blush and smile. Ray sees it too, but the smile on his face doesn’t change. Nick looks away as Ray pokes his shoulder gently. “Oh, they’ve only got Pepsi. Damn, I wanted a Zesti.”

“I don’t know how you can drink that crap.” Ray shakes his head. “But then again, the things you put in your mouth, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Ray!” Nick gasps shocked. He looks utterly scandalised. 

Red can’t stop his amused laugh, and it brings Nick’s attention back onto him. “Red, quit it!”

“Oh hey, no.” Red holds his hands up. “I’m laughing because I’ve seen the kind of girls that Hapless over there runs around with. I’m sure he puts his mouth in places it shouldn’t go, too.”

Temis snorts loudly. “If your mouth isn’t going on a girl, then you don’t deserve to get a girl.” Red rolls his eyes. “But then, that’s not a problem for you.”

“You’re the one rolling in pussy here, Tem.” Red scoffs. “I’m busy with other things.”

“Hi, I’m things.” Nick blurts out, slapping his hand over his mouth and looking horrified he spoke.

“Nicky, Nicky, Nicky.” Ray sighs, grinning from ear to ear. “That was classic. Please. Never change you deranged lunatic.”

“I... That... You...” Nick splutters, looking around the room helplessly, sending some pleading eyes in Red’s direction.

Bez claps loudly, drawing the attention to himself. “Red, I really like him! He’s adorable. You should keep him.”

“Oh my god, Bez, we’ve had the conversation about indoor voices how many times now?” Pip groans, smacking his hand into his face. “But I agree; you got a keeper there, Red.”

“Red’s pretty cool, too.” Ray says, still smiling. “I mean, not as cool as Temis, but he’ll do for Nicky.”

“She’s a lesbian, Ray.” Nick says, face and voice serious. “And no, you can’t watch. Ever.”

“Well, see if I’m best man at your wedding to Red, and she’s uh... best woman, then you never know!” Ray leers, receiving a cushion to the face courtesy of Temis’ deadly and expert aim.

***

_September_

The click of the lube bottle’s lid sounds oddly loud as Red drops the bottle to the bed. Nick looks back at him over his shoulder and smiles, lifting his left leg up higher. “Come on, Red, get your fingers in me.”

“Bossy and impatient.” Red snorts, amused. “Maybe I should make you wait even longer, huh?”

Nick pouts, the jut of his bottom lip at odds with the sparkle of happiness in his eyes. “Nooo. Please, daddy?”

“Don’t pout, you know I can’t fucking deny you anything.” Red sighs, sliding his lube coated fingers between Nick’s open, waiting thighs. 

He leans over, pressing a kiss to Nick’s shoulder, sliding the first finger in, and hearing Nick’s satisfied hum. There’s no resistance, not anymore, and after three or four gentle thrusts, Red slides in the next finger. Nick sighs happily, his shoulders relaxing into the bed, and his head lolling onto the pillow. 

“Mmmm. More?” Nick says, biting his lip. Red thrusts his fingers into the tight, slick heat of his body. A little faster than he usually does this early into it. “More?” Nick sighs, and Red picks up the pace, his fingers slamming in fast and easy, the slick wet sound enticing, and reminding Red of all the times he stretched Nick open with his cock instead. 

“Good?” Red grins when Nick makes an explosive cry after he jabs at his prostate.

Nick pushes back as much as he can with one leg still in the air. He ends up dropping his ankle over Red’s shoulder, and taking a shuddering breath. “More.”

“Since you asked so nicely, princess.” Red says, slipping a third finger into his hole. Nick moans at the new nickname, shuddering; his hole fluttering open around Red’s fingers. It’s a tight fit now, the pressure on his knuckles sweet torture. He can only imagine how full Nick feels. He slows down his pace, intent on making this good for Nick, not hurting him. (This time at least, and not without a discussion _first_.) He works his fingers until Nick looses around him almost despite how much he’s been trying to work his ass on Red’s thick fingers.

“More...” Nick groans, his grip on the bedspread turning white with how tightly he’s holding on. “Please, Red, give me _more_...”

“Nick, baby, are ya sure?” Red says, stilling his hand. Nick rocks back on him anyway, keeping the sensations up.

“Yes. Please. I want to take more. I want to take it all.” Nick gasps out, turning to look at Red. His face is flushed, tears gathering in his eyes. “I want that big fist of yours all the way inside me. I want to be stretched open on your wrist. Please.”

“Jesus _Fuckin’_ Christ, Nicholas.” Red breathes out, sweat gathering on his brow at the thought of his entire hand being up inside Nick.

“Please?” Nick begs, his eyes wide with unshed tears and a definite plea in his voice. “Please?”

“Fuck, princess, don’t beg.” Red says, his breath leaving him in a whoosh. “I said it earlier, and I meant it. I can’t fucking deny you anything.”

He reaches for the discarded bottle of lube, flicking it open one handed to coat his thumb and remaining finger up to his wrist. Red’s breathing a little harder than he usually would be at this point. He’s never done this before, never really thought about it, but he’s sure as fuck not gonna back down now that Nick’s asked so sweetly.

He takes a slow, calming breath, and works his pinky finger in on the instroke. Nick gasps at the extra stretch, but doesn’t protest. Red takes it slow, ready to stop at the slightest hint from Nick that he’s can’t take anymore. But Nick shows no hints; in fact he pushes back hesitantly, a loud long groan falling from his lips.

“It’s so much... I’m so full.” Nick says breathily, lost to the sensation. 

Red pushes in further until the widest part of his hand is outside Nick’s rim. “Yeah? It’s good for you, princess?”

“More.” Nick says, shaking slightly. Red tucks his thumb into his palm and gently, slowly, inexorably pushes in further. Nick’s hole swallows him up greedily, and the knowledge that his hand is fully inside is breathtaking. Nick sobs, shuddering hard; Red leans down as much as he can given he’s anchored to the spot, running his free hand over every part of Nick he can, soothing him. 

Nick’s body is massaging Red’s hand, squeezing down and fluttering around the intrusion randomly. “Fuck, Nick...”

“Red!” Nick outright wails, his face a picture of overstimulation. “I’m going to come.” He’s barely got the words out before Nick’s cock is spurting all over the bedclothes, as untouched as it often is. The clench as he comes is weak, but it still feels like a vice around Red’s wrist.

Nick goes limp on the bed, panting quietly and moaning beneath him whenever Red flexes his hand. Slipping his hand out of the welcoming warmth of Nick’s body is something of a regret, but fucking hell Red needs to get off. Nick twists over, looking up at Red with adoration in his eyes. “Let me...”

“Yeah, go for it, princess.” Red breathes out, and Nick wraps a shaky, gentle hand around Red’s cock; it’s not as hot as being inside him, but Nick knows how to jerk a guy off, putting a flick into his wrist on the upstroke. The downstroke is just as good; Nick tightens his grip, and the heat from his palm on Red’s cock is bliss. Red had no idea just how worked up he was from fisting Nick, because he’s close already after barely a few strokes. 

Nick twists around, pushing Red onto his back, speeding up his hand. He slips one thigh over Red’s leaning down close to kiss him desperately. Their lips meet, and Nick sighs into the kiss, letting Red slip him his tongue. Nicks sucks on it greedily, and the combined soft pressure of that and the hand on his cock, tips Red over the edge, coming messily with a pleased grunt over Nick’s hand and his own stomach.

“God, I love watching you come.” Nick says, breaking the kiss.

“Yeah? Good, cause, I feel the same.” Red grins lazily. “Fuck, that was hot.”

Nick slumps down onto Red’s chest. “It really was... I’ve been thinking about it since the first time you fingered me. You totally lived up to expectations.”

“Aww, thanks, princess. You too.” Red laughs, moving leaden limbs to wrap Nick in his arms. 

Nick rubs his cheek on Red’s shoulder, making a pleased purring sound. “So, would this be a good time to say it?”

“Hmm?” Red says, pulling Nick closer.

“That I love you.” Nick says softly, staring up at Red.

Red traces his fingertips over the curve of Nick’s jaw. “I think this is the perfect time, considering I’ve been fucking waiting to say it since our first time.”

~*~

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

I... Uh... You! Wait! What? OMG! Fist!

OK, Musician AU? Awesome! (The ElctrcBlu part of my name is from David Bowie’s Sound and Vision!) 1980’s setting? Amazing! The use of Young Guns, and Nick as Not!George Michael? Inspired! The sex in the recording booth? Incredibly hot! (I loved the jacket kink!) I love how supportive Red and Nick’s bandmates are about their semi-secret relationship. But... Fist!

Fist? _Fist_! Hello, new kink I never knew I had! I am never going to be able to look at _anyone’s_ hands in the same way ever again!  
In conclusion? Fist!

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Fist indeed. _Wiggles fingers at you to watch you squirm._  
I’ve gotta confess, Red’s aesthetic is basically mine irl, except I have short hair. I guess I’m kind of an 80’s throwback, in a good way? Did you know Nightwing does like to sing on the rooftops? So a Musician AU seems appropriate. 

_Fist._

I didn’t want to be super accurate to the 80’s setting, but I wanted Nick and Red to have a lot of outside support.  
(Btw, I’m just checking, but you got my text about meeting up, right?)

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

_Fist!_ (I did! Sorry, I totally replied, and then forgot to hit send because I’m a sleep-deprived dumbass sometimes! We’re totally on for when you said! :D)

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Also? Fist. Yes. (Great! Cool, cool, cool. I’ll see you there, then.)


	8. Coffee Shop AU

Jason takes a deep breath as he spots the coffee shop he’s arranged to meet Blu at. He’s got an old battered copy of Mansfield Park in his hand, and that, along with a black leather jacket with GCG patch on the shoulder are how Blu’s meant to know that Jason is theHoodedGargoyle. Blu himself will be wearing a blue leather jacket and blue sunglasses. It’s a bit of a hit and miss way to identify each other, but they’d both been reticent to send the other a photo of themselves, so clothes as identifiers were the next best option.

Jason walks in through the open coffee shop door, pausing as he reads the menu. It has all the basics, but also a specials board with drinks named after the local heroes and, surprisingly, the villains. The Red Hood is a clear Redeye ripoff, and the dark and white chocolate mocha has been named after the Penguin. Ivy’s drink is some hemp and flax seed thing that Jason wouldn’t touch even if you paid him. The Nightwing, however, a blueberry green tea with tapioca bubbles sounds interesting, but today, Jason opts for the safe classic of a hot chocolate, and a rather large fruited scone. (Alfred would find this shop’s scones acceptable, he thinks.)

There’s no queue at this time of day, so Jason’s order comes up immediately, and he goes off to find a seat in the quiet shop. He finds a two-seater table perfectly situated between the open door, the huge plate glass windows, a wall, and the back exit. The heat radiating from his hot chocolate means he can’t down it immediately in his slightly nervous state, which is good thing, as it a) means he won’t have to get up and buy another halfway through meeting Blu, and b) means that he can’t spit it out in shock when Dick _fucking_ Grayson walks into the coffee shop.

The urge to run is only increased by the fact that Dick has blue sunglasses perched on his head of full stupidly touchable hair, sunglasses that perfectly match the blue leather jacket he’s wearing. Jason’s blind date is _Dick_!

Mercifully, he doesn’t spot Jason, going straight to the counter and ordering for himself. Jason takes the precious minute he gets before Dick turns around and spots him to calm himself. There’s really no way to play this off as a coincidence or a joke. He’s written too much fic to be anything but serious, and if he takes his jacket off then that means he’s stood Dick up, and frankly, he’s pretty sure that he’ll never get a chance like this again. He’s gonna have to get through this on pure force of will and bravado.

He wants to die. Again. Right now.

He grabs his book, flipping it open and shoving his nose in it, to give himself a few more seconds of anonymity. He’s staring so hard at the print on page ninety-three that he can’t even read the words, so aware that Dick’s finally turned around, and is making is way over to his table. There’s the clatter of crockery on the table, two cups and two plates containing a sandwich and a brownie, landing on the wooden surface; and Jason looks up at the sound to see shock and confusion on Dick’s face.

“Uh. What the actual fuck?” Dick says under his breath, gaze flicking between the patch on Jason’s jacket shoulder and his face. “Jason?”

“Dick...” Jason puts his book down. “You’re ElctrcBluEskrima? ...There’s no chance some random dude on the street gave you a jacket and shades, right?”

Dick collapses into the chair opposite Jason, staring down at his food. “No... This is my jacket. _You're_ theHoodedGargoyle?”

“Well, this is unbelievably fucking _awkward_.” Jason mutters. “I had no idea you read HoodWing. Or fanfiction for that matter.”

“That’s what you’re focusing on? _You_ write it!” Dick hisses, looking for all the world like an upset cat.

“I’m sorry, would you prefer I fucking focus on the fact I’m on a blind date with my... You?” Jason sits back in his chair. “I don’t even know how to refer to you.”

“What do you mean, we’re friends, we’re...” Dick trails off looking distinctly uncomfortable. “You know all those times we hung out on rooftops, I wasn’t trying to, I don’t know, seduce you or anything? I just wanted you in my life. I started reading the fanfiction to deal with my feelings in a safe, private way.”

“Same.” Jason says, looking out of the window into the busy street beyond. “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“I had no idea you felt that way about me.” Dick picks up his espresso cup and downs it like a shot, setting the cup down to pick up his cream covered drink. It’s blue in the glass, and Jason has no idea what it could be, must be from the specials board. “I thought you weren’t interested in anyone, actually.”

“What? How?” Jason blinks, trying to remember when he could have said anything like that. “I thought you were dating someone. You said you were... Oh.” Thinking back to that conversation he’d had with Dick when he _thought_ Dick had said he was dating someone, he realises the exact phrasing had been vague. He’d even talked to Blu about it, and oh fuck, Blu had been all bouncy at the idea he might have a chance with his ‘Red’. 

“You were pretty firm about the fact you were single and happy enough that way.” Dick shrugs, picking up his sandwich and angrily eating half of it in three bites. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so disgusting. “An’ then we tal’ed ‘bout ‘t ‘n commen’s... I fel’ ba’ fo’ you.” Dick swallows his mouthful of sandwich.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Jason sighs, snatching up his hot chocolate and sipping at it. It’s still too hot, and he narrowly avoids burning his tongue on it. “So basically, we both got it wrong, and then talked online about how we got it wrong. We’re idiots.”

“I... Oh god, we are.” Dick slaps his face, dragging his hand down. He takes a long sip of his creamy, oversized, fancy coffee and licks his lips. “What do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?” Jason bites his lip. “We could pretend this never happened. We could, I don’t know, never go online again.”

“I don’t want to do that.” Dick says quietly, his eyes downcast. Jason knows that look on his face, Dick’s working through a plan in his head, and he’s going to suggest it to Jason, who won’t like it. “We could... Try?” 

“Try.” Jason repeats numbly. Is Dick really suggesting he’d risk pissing off all his friends and family for a chance with _Jason_?

“Actually dating. I mean...” Dick takes a quick inhale of breath. “Everything in your fics... If that’s how you really feel about me, I don’t want to ignore it, or throw it away, or pretend I don’t know when I feel the same. I want to try dating you.”

“Don’t.” Jason swallows, throat suddenly dry at the prospect of having what he wants so badly being offered up. “Don’t mess with me, Dick. Not on this. I can’t fucking take it.”

“I’m not. I wouldn’t. Not about you.” Dick leans forward, grasping Jason’s hands on the table. Jason can feel them shake slightly. “It’s too serious.”

“You realise you’re gonna get a lot of shit from people for being with me?” Jason says, turning his hand so that his palm meets Dick’s, lacing their fingers together.

“Less people than you’d think, Jay.” Dick gives him a quick smile. “I mean, Babs is the one that turned me on to HoodWing fanfic in the first place... And Alfred always gives me this knowing look whenever I mention planning on looking for you on patrol. Even _Damian_ once said I could do much worse.”

“Well, now I’m just uncomfortable.” Jason snorts, trying to imagine the batbrat stiffly informing Dick that Jason is a more preferable option than Raptor or another one of Dick’s harem of morally ambiguous older men. “Demonspawn actually said that? And he wasn’t on drugs of any kind?”

“I know right? It was awkward!” Dick grins, relaxing more and more as Jason keeps hold of his hand, sweeping his thumb back and forth over the back of his hand.

Jason clears his throat, fighting the urge to shift in his seat. “Everything in my fics? That _is_ how I feel. So... _Fuck_. We’re gonna try this thing, huh?”

“Yeah, I think we are...” Dick says, his bright blue eyes sparkling with hope. 

“Cool, cool, cool.” Jason nods, taking a sip of his now cooling hot chocolate. 

Dick smiles widely, taking another bite of his sandwich. He actually chews and swallows before he speaks again. “So, does this count as our first date?”

“No. Absolutely not.” Jason vehemently says, watching as Dick’s smile gets even bigger somehow. “It doesn’t count. We didn’t know we were meeting up with _each other_... Although, looking back now, how the hell I didn’t guess it was you is fucking astounding.”

“Oh god, I’m never going to live that down am I? A big buff, 80’s throwback dude, who loves Jane Austen, tea, and bar brawls? How did I not guess it was you?” Dick groans, grabbing his overly-syruped coffee and taking a big gulp.

“You’re also never going to live down that coffee order. I mean, fuck, I thought the replacement was bad for coffee, but you?” Jason shakes his head. “Wait, is that how you’re so peppy compared to the rest of us here in Gotham? You’re not actually happy, you’re just caffeine high?”

Dick blinks, flushing slightly as he looks down at his drink. “Uh... Damn, you caught me. My secret has been revealed. I’m a coffee addict.”

“Worse things to be really.” Jason shrugs, breaking off a piece of his scone. It’s light and fluffy, and he thinks Alfred might not object to coming here with him. “Like a grown man who dresses up as a _bat_ to fight crime.”

“Jay...” Dick says reprovingly. “Come on...”

“I see you not denying it, Dickie.” Jason grins, leaning back in his seat, keeping a tight hold on Dick’s hand. “Because you know it’s true. Batman’s a _fursona_.”

“Don’t let Selina hear that.” Dick shakes his head a little until realisation dawns on his face. “No, wait by that logic, she’s also...”

“Selina is, but she’d laugh about it, because she’s awesome like that.” Jason grins wetly, showing off his teeth, and popping another bite of scone in his mouth.

“She’d also give you some pretty good tips on domming.” Dick nods seriously, mischief in his eyes. “You know, since we’re both apparently into that.”

Jason chokes on his scone, wheezing through the crumbs at the thought of Dick; naked, all tied up and willing for Jason.

~*~

**Grind It  
By theHoodedGargoyle**

Summary: When Red bumps into Nick in a coffee shop, it leads to more than expected.

Sometime after giving their orders to the barista, Red tuned out Nick’s running commentary on whatever-the-fuck he’s talking about; not because he wants to be rude, but after a really late night, the noise and smell of the coffee shop is making him feel nauseous. It’s the reason that he starts when his name is called out, and why he fumbles for his cup when he reaches out for it. The fact he nearly drops it explains how he ends up covered in near scalding hot chocolate.

It doesn’t explain how Nick ends up covered in his own froufrou coffee, the heaps of whipped cream streaked across his shirt messily. “Well, fuck.” Red exhales loudly.

“Crap.” Is all Nick says, staring forlornly at his now empty coffee cup. “Uh, miss? Can we get replacements please?”

The barista eyes them with a suspicious glint in her eye as Nick sets down enough bills to cover the new order. “Sure, sir. The bathroom is that way...” She points to the well-signed bathrooms, just a few feet away from the counter. “If you and your friend want to clean up?” 

“Thanks! I think we will.” Nick says, giving his best ‘Aren’t I just so charming and handsome?’ smile. The barista melts a little at the sight, too flustered to speak as Nick drags Red over to the bathroom door. “C’mon, Red, that shirt needs rinsing.”

“Right.” Red blinks against the harsh lighting in the men’s bathroom. There’s only one stall, but it’s a small, mostly quiet at this time of day, coffee shop; there’d been no one behind them, lining up for coffee. The only benefit of being in such a small confined space with Nick is that the noise from the coffee grinders and the smell of roasting beans is barely noticeable in here. 

Nick’s already pulled his shirt off, running it under the faucet in the basin and trying to squeeze out as much of the cream, sugar and coffee as he can. He hangs his shirt up over the stall and looks over at Red. 

“Aw, man, it’s even on your jeans.” Nick grabs a couple of hand towels, running them under the faucet. He gets onto his knees and pats at the stain on Red’s thigh with the wet towels. “Aren’t you going to rinse your shirt?”

“Right.” Red tears his eyes away from Nick’s half-naked form kneeling in front of him. He peels off his shirt, rinsing and squeezing it out while Nick works.

“Red, you OK? You’re weirdly quiet.” Nick says, staring up at him.

“Mostly just trying to avoid saying something inappropriate for a coffee shop bathroom.” Red sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He hangs his shirt up next to Nick’s.

“Dude, I’m shirtless and on my knees in front of you. We’re already at inappropriate.” Nick chuckles, shifting on his knees, but making no move to stand. 

“In that case...” Red snorts, shaking his head at his own foolishness. “While you’re down there?”

“Red! I thought you’d never ask!” Nick says, a delighted and wicked smile on his face. Red has the sinking feeling that maybe Nick’s exhibitionist streak is the reason that their original orders are all over their clothes and the floor instead of their bellies. Nick’s reaching for the belt of Red’s jeans before he can even say that he was ‘only joking’. 

“Uh... Nicky...” Red says, swaying back as Nick yanks his flies open.

“Give me a minute, my mouth’s about to be full.” Nick says, winking up at him. Red groans at the terrible line, but he doesn’t stop Nick from pulling out his rapidly filling cock. Nick produces a condom from god knows where, opening it and rolling it on Red’s cock with skill and clear practice. He follows the condom down with his mouth, and Red hisses at the sudden wet heat on him. 

Nick shuffles closer, swallowing more of Red down as he moves in. It’s bliss; slipping down Nick’s throat, feeling the flick of his tongue, the fluttering squeeze of his muscles around him. Nick pulls back with a smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief and his lips reddened. “Feeling better yet?” He slides back down before Red even gets his mouth open to respond.

“Yes, actually.” Red lifts a hand to rest it on top of Nick’s soft, dark cloud of hair. “But don’t let that stop you from putting some more effort in.” Nick’s choking noise of surprised laughter lifts Red’s spirits even further. He stares up at Red challengingly as he hollows his cheeks and sucks _harder_. “Yeah, fuck, baby, just like that.” Red groans, letting his head drop back onto the stall and their wet shirts. “That feels so fucking good.”

Nick moans quietly, moving a hand up to rest on Red’s thigh, while the other slips down to push into the open crotch of his own pants. As hot as it is to know that Nick’s getting off on just sucking him, that’s not enough for Red. If they’re going to have semi-public sex, then they’re going to do it properly, for fuck’s sake. It’s not going to be easy, but Red’s pretty sure that between them, he has enough upper body strength and Nick is both flexible, and has the grip of an octopus enough to pull it off. 

“Hey. Let’s try something.” Red says, gently pushing Nick’s head back and off. Nick frowns at him, but stands when Red’s hands gently pull him up.

“OK, what?” Nick says, confused as Red pushes Nick’s pants down, and off one leg; leaning down to put his head by Nick’s waist, and wrapping one arm around a leg and the other around his waist. He stands back up, taking Nick with him, who yelps very, very, quietly. He grabs onto Red’s legs, one of his feet hooking over the stall door; the other hooking behind Red’s head. “Red! What the fuck?”

“The only one getting you fucking off today is me.” Red says, putting as much authority in his tone as he can to make Nick shiver. “Get your mouth back on me, and I’ll get to work on you.”

“Holy fuck, Red!” Nick exhales, taking a deep breath to centre himself before he wiggles slightly, and gets into position to suck Red’s cock upside down. “Don’t drop me!”

“I won’t.” Red says, gently nudging at Nick’s head, until Nick swallows him down, going carefully since the angle is new and a little unexpected. Red waits until he’s got a good rhythm of going back and forth before he drops his head down to press a wet kiss to Nick’s naked, very naked and glorious ass. He kisses the other cheek, just to hear Nick give a choked little noise of approval. Red stares down at the parted crease of that peachy ass, feeling his mouth water at the thought of getting his mouth on it. He presses his nose in, waiting for Nick’s surprised squeak as he licks along his crack.

Nick’s muffled moan when he flicks the tip of his tongue over his hole is fucking beautiful, making Red wonders if next time they could tape themselves, just to see how Nick flushes when he hears the noises he makes. 

By the time Red’s pulling his head back for breath, Nick’s hole is hot, wet with saliva and flexing open as if it badly wants something inside it. Red decides not to deny it, he carefully moves one hand up and slides a finger into Nick’s waiting hole. The unexpected fingering makes Nick cry out, sucking harder, and the sheer electric feeling of his throat on Red’s cock is enough to make him weep if he weren’t so focused on getting Nick off.

Red watches as his finger slides deep into Nick, pressing against the sweet spot that makes Nick keen, and suck that little more frantically at Red’s cock. He has to close his eyes, because the combined skill of Nick’s mouth, even upside down, and the way his body opens up for Red’s finger is almost too much to take right now. Red drops his head down, licking wetly around his finger, and feeling the way Nick’s hole flexes open around him. 

Nick jerks in his grip, his muffled whine familiar enough to let Red know what to expect next. Sure enough, Red’s belly gets coated in stripes of come as Nick orgasms hard, still swallowing around Red’s cock. It almost drives Red to his knees, but somehow he manages to only lean back onto the stall wall.

How Nick keeps the presence of mind to keep sucking and moving his head through his orgasm, Red has no idea. But the continued suction and the way that Nick’s gone mostly limp in his arms (only the leg hooked behind his neck is still tense) is what tips Red over the edge, the condom he’s wearing stopping him from spilling his seed right down Nick’s tight and welcoming throat.

Red lets Nick down, watching as he breathes hard, readjusting to being the right way up again. Red grabs some more paper towels, wetting them and cleaning his stomach up. At least the wet patch will be in the same place on his shirt. He passes a wet towel to Nick who wipes himself up and then wobbles as he gets to his feet, pulling up his pants and underwear. Red tucks himself in, grabbing their shirts, and dropping Nick’s over his head. They’re dressed, and somewhat clean in record time.

Their new drinks are sitting on the counter waiting for them, and the previously flustered barista looks even more so as they grab them and leave. Nick even gives her a wink as they rush out.

“Dude, stop scandalising the barista. We can never come back here.” Red says, and the only reason he doesn’t sound more mournful (he likes this coffee shop, for fuck’s sake) is that he’s far to satiated. 

“You say like all of that wasn’t mostly your fault.” Nick laughs, sounding wild and free, exactly as he was when Red fell in love with him. “ _While you’re down there?_ Red, you pervert!”

“You’re so shameless.” Red sniffs to hide his grin. “ _You thought I’d never ask._ ”

~*~

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

Uh, wow! Every time I think you’ve written the best and hottest thing ever, you outdo yourself! I love it! I might like this better than Young Guns? (Also, we should totally try out that last sex scene... Just saying!)

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Aww, thanks. I have a pretty acceptable muse. ;)

...To anyone reading the comments, yes, Blu and I are now dating irl. He’s not just being weird. Well, not _only_ weird.

(Damn boy, we’ve only had two dates so far. No putting out until then, have some fucking self respect. But also, yes, we’ll totally try out that last sex scene _at home_ on our third date. <3)

**4llKn0w1ng0r4cl3:**

_Finally_.

I’ve eaten too much popcorn watching you dumbasses fail to recognise each other. Now Blu will stop moping over you when he visits. By which I mean: Congratulations!

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

Did he hang upside down doing the puppydog eyes?

**ElctrcBluEskrima:**

I did not!!! Also, tHG, I’ll be in the bathroom waiting, wearing a lace bodysuit!!!

**theHoodedGargoyle:**

!!! ...Gotta go. I may be sometime...

**4llKn0w1ng0r4cl3:**

Yes. You guys _do_ know you don’t have to 69 in the bathroom, right?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [life imitating art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662082) by [breezydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breezydreams/pseuds/breezydreams)




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